No matter what I say here, you KNOW there is always hope, always the quirky miracle, always the better turnout than the medics told you about, always the surprise good thing that you didn't see coming.
Hold on to THAT while I tell you what happened today.
The Oncologist (in agreement with the main Oncologist at Wake Forest Hospital 2 hours away), decided to break out the news, unedited and unafraid.
Unafraid, apparently, of us both fainting away onto the floor when she said it. Which we almost did.
Here it is: Bill's cancer is now considered completely incurable, and he will not beat it, and the only thing they can do now is give him random-guess selections of chemo meds in the hope that these random stabs in the dark at chemo choices might--MIGHT--slow down the spread of the cancer and extend his life. (Reason they have to guess blindly: Type 3, Stage IV, highest level aggression bladder cancer has never been cured, and no studies have been done, because the disease, once metastasized, is always considered incurable.)
What are the chances that chemo is going to hurt this cancer?
At best, 50-50, she said.
And if the chemo doesn't beat the cancer?
No matter what the upcoming scan shows, Bill has to have 12 more weeks (yeah, three MONTHS) of (ready?) ONCE A WEEK chemo (no more red devil, at least; it will be carboplatin and taxol).
OR!
He can give up, enter Hospice care at home, and live out his life without the illnesses of chemo, under complete pain control and around-the-clock care at home.
BUT!
Hospice accepts only patients who have 6 months or fewer to live. So the way *I* do the math (pessimistically), this adds up to: At best, a 50-50 chance that Bill has 6 months to live, BUT ALSO the same 50-50 chance that he could last even some "years."
I said, "Ten years?"
She said, "No. But if the chemo is working, it could be years rather than months. There is no way to guess closer than that, until we see the scan, which I'm setting up for you today." (The scan will probably happen in the next couple of weeks. I hope I'm on intravenous sedatives or chloroform when the results from that scan are delivered to us! Oh Lordie!)
So, Bill gets (we didn't know this) ONE MORE dose of red devil next week, THEN goes to Winston for the scan, with results within one hour (!) and depending on those results, he can decide between chemo and Hospice.
REACTIONS:
I've been reading things that have these zero-chance prognosis statements for years now, but not telling Bill. Bill happily thought he was headed for a cure. So he was absolutely SHOCKED. I could say "devastated" and not be far off base. I, however, had not had any professional put it so bluntly, and out of nowhere. We thought we were just getting a blood test, not a blooming LIFE EXPECTANCY STATEMENT today.
Wow, sort of a slam in the head with a two by four.
So we came home VERY QUIETLY. At first, we were both in twilight zone, shock. Then we started talking, and even joking, and now we are deciding his strategy for what to do with the rest of his life. He wants to see his beloved and deeply missed Baraboo, Wisconsin, friends once more (Kenny, you most of all); wants to take his daughter to Vermont to see her grandparents' graves; and he wants to see the Pacific ocean just once in his life. (This saddens me. Look how little he wants.)
He also said this, and I know a lot of you will love this: "The one thing the oncologists aren't putting into the equation is the power of prayer."
That's my boy! Always optimistic!
We will definitely post on the same day that we get ANY information from here on out.
Thank you all for standing with us during this long and crazy rodeo. Bill isn't ABOUT to give up wrassling this ole bull.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Cowboy Bill feeling better & better!
The above photo is explained at the end.
He is mastering his nausea and other problems, and knowing that there will be at LEAST a long break before more chemo, and maybe no more at all for now, is a huge uplifting factor for us both.
Friday (two days from now), I will post again after we meet with Bronco Onco (here is her picture)
I'll always post on Sundays, even if there's no news.
If there's bad news, I'll always post that night.
So if you hear nothing, it means all it well!
Unless space junk falls on our house like so:
and mushes us both, and then....no more blogs at all! (The man in the photo is saying, "Beth? Bill? Are you under there? Can you hear me? It's Sunday! A blog was promised!")
Love and THANK YOU for all you've done. Special thanks to Mariola who went to Greece (!) and lit candles for Bill in Orthodox Churches. Bill is beside himself with delight about that. We even got a picture of one. Here it is. The candle on the far right is the one she lit for Bill. Mariola, God bless you!!!!!
Sunday, July 8, 2012
BILL FEELS GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Need I say more?
Our cowboy is feeling actually "GOOD" right now! He ate a pot pie and some ice cream, and he is sooooooooooo happy to feel better!
I promised I'd tell you if that happened, and it did! Miracle!
Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Our cowboy is feeling actually "GOOD" right now! He ate a pot pie and some ice cream, and he is sooooooooooo happy to feel better!
I promised I'd tell you if that happened, and it did! Miracle!
Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Correction! (Cowboy Not Happy Bout Sumpn I Said!)
I just woke up, but even before a sip of coffee, I have to write a REEEEEEALLY fast correction/clarification. And my mom has to sign it before the principal will accept it.
Apparently, the cowboy was awake half the night, extremely unhappy with me putting into the blog his having said, "I want to die."
He said that with so many people praying for him, what must that look like? He felt it was a "slap in the face" of his friends.
Uh oh! I'm in the naughty corner! (I tried to get out of it by saying, "Well all Christians TECHNICALLY want to die, 'cause heaven is better!" He was NOT buying it. Lawyerly argument attempt: EPIC FAIL.)
So here's the clarification: He did NOT mean it literally. It was ONLY an expression of how bad he felt. He said to tell you it's like something you'd say if you had the flu and both ends were flying, and you be in the middle of it and say, NOT LITERALLY, "I wanna die!"
It's even something you might say if you had to carry in too many groceries and put them away on a hot day. "I wanna die. And I'm never eating again. Grocery shopping isn't worth it!" Naturally, I say this almost every time I have to put the groceries away. Brat that I am.
So I hope you will all forgive me for the mis-step; I am known for being a Drama Queen and drawing some things without their context.
Final update: Bill wants to live! Hooray!!!!!!!!!!!! And thank you for your prayers. If you sent any up with that line in it, God will know how to edit it.
Love,
Beth in the Corner
Apparently, the cowboy was awake half the night, extremely unhappy with me putting into the blog his having said, "I want to die."
He said that with so many people praying for him, what must that look like? He felt it was a "slap in the face" of his friends.
Uh oh! I'm in the naughty corner! (I tried to get out of it by saying, "Well all Christians TECHNICALLY want to die, 'cause heaven is better!" He was NOT buying it. Lawyerly argument attempt: EPIC FAIL.)
So here's the clarification: He did NOT mean it literally. It was ONLY an expression of how bad he felt. He said to tell you it's like something you'd say if you had the flu and both ends were flying, and you be in the middle of it and say, NOT LITERALLY, "I wanna die!"
HE DOES NOT WANT TO DIE. <----Look. HE WANTS TO LIVE!
It's even something you might say if you had to carry in too many groceries and put them away on a hot day. "I wanna die. And I'm never eating again. Grocery shopping isn't worth it!" Naturally, I say this almost every time I have to put the groceries away. Brat that I am.
So I hope you will all forgive me for the mis-step; I am known for being a Drama Queen and drawing some things without their context.
Final update: Bill wants to live! Hooray!!!!!!!!!!!! And thank you for your prayers. If you sent any up with that line in it, God will know how to edit it.
Love,
Beth in the Corner
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Worst Day Ever. *frown*
I suppose that even though this is Saturday, this will count as the regular Sunday post. But if he's lots better on Sunday, I'll post again, just so no one has to worry.
I guess I'd say, to our praying friends: Bill needs prayer. To our non-praying friends, Bill needs your good thoughts. (This doesn't make me a relativist. This makes me someone who loves every friend just the same, because every life is equally precious.)
Bill has never been this sick, except when he was in Intensive Care after his roter-rooter surgery at Duke.
There's no way to give you enough facts to present even an impressionistic rendering of the way he is sick. But here's the best I can do. His nausea is nearly unendurable. He feels like he has the full blown flu, aches, exhaustion, depression, misery. "I'm ready to die," he says.
Kicker: He can't even READ. He can't look at computer or TV. He's so sick that it makes him ill to even take in thought. He doesn't want me near him. He just lies in his bed in the dark with his eyes closed and says, "Beth, I'm just so sick," during my brief visits with food, water or medicines.
He could only eat scrambled eggs today. He loves how I cook them. He had one for breakfast, one for dinner. And some chocolate protein drink to try to stop his stomach pain.
I feel sure this is just ("just?") the red devil doing its dirty, cumulative work, and we all hope that his tumor has met its match. I'll tell you the MINUTE we know when that MRI will be. It can't be soon enough for me.
His next appointment is Friday, but I have a feeling he may need some hospital time before then, if he doesn't turn around. He needs anti-nausea IVs--the pills and suppositories aren't working. He needs food and fluids. He probably needs morphine drip. I wouldn't want this to happen to a dog, much less my beautiful, brilliant, loving, holy, Christian, hard-working, courageous husband. In just unabating misery.
I know there are some of you that may not believe I should say all this. Some people--it's a personal choice--believe in showing a strong face, no matter what. They might call this whining or complaining or self-pitying.
But I do it for one reason. Now you know how to pray for him. (Thanks for that realization, Richard H., one of Bill's beloved church friends.)
I will write again the minute he starts feeling better, as I know this kind of post stresses and upsets a lot of people. It's hard to know what I should do, but as my friend Craig says, "When you're in a situation like this, remember that whatever you do is right." Thank you Craig (he lost his wife to cancer. He is my standby comfort at all times, and my advisor. He volunteers for Hospice in NY.).
Then there is Clifford whose hair is now 1/16th of an inch long, in solidarity with Bill's humiliating hair loss.
Then there is YOU who have read this far, this long, this often, and with this much love. I love you for loving Bill as if you are the only person in the whole wide world. Thank you, with all my sad heart. No jokes from me today.
Bethie
I guess I'd say, to our praying friends: Bill needs prayer. To our non-praying friends, Bill needs your good thoughts. (This doesn't make me a relativist. This makes me someone who loves every friend just the same, because every life is equally precious.)
Bill has never been this sick, except when he was in Intensive Care after his roter-rooter surgery at Duke.
There's no way to give you enough facts to present even an impressionistic rendering of the way he is sick. But here's the best I can do. His nausea is nearly unendurable. He feels like he has the full blown flu, aches, exhaustion, depression, misery. "I'm ready to die," he says.
Kicker: He can't even READ. He can't look at computer or TV. He's so sick that it makes him ill to even take in thought. He doesn't want me near him. He just lies in his bed in the dark with his eyes closed and says, "Beth, I'm just so sick," during my brief visits with food, water or medicines.
He could only eat scrambled eggs today. He loves how I cook them. He had one for breakfast, one for dinner. And some chocolate protein drink to try to stop his stomach pain.
I feel sure this is just ("just?") the red devil doing its dirty, cumulative work, and we all hope that his tumor has met its match. I'll tell you the MINUTE we know when that MRI will be. It can't be soon enough for me.
His next appointment is Friday, but I have a feeling he may need some hospital time before then, if he doesn't turn around. He needs anti-nausea IVs--the pills and suppositories aren't working. He needs food and fluids. He probably needs morphine drip. I wouldn't want this to happen to a dog, much less my beautiful, brilliant, loving, holy, Christian, hard-working, courageous husband. In just unabating misery.
I know there are some of you that may not believe I should say all this. Some people--it's a personal choice--believe in showing a strong face, no matter what. They might call this whining or complaining or self-pitying.
But I do it for one reason. Now you know how to pray for him. (Thanks for that realization, Richard H., one of Bill's beloved church friends.)
I will write again the minute he starts feeling better, as I know this kind of post stresses and upsets a lot of people. It's hard to know what I should do, but as my friend Craig says, "When you're in a situation like this, remember that whatever you do is right." Thank you Craig (he lost his wife to cancer. He is my standby comfort at all times, and my advisor. He volunteers for Hospice in NY.).
Then there is Clifford whose hair is now 1/16th of an inch long, in solidarity with Bill's humiliating hair loss.
Then there is YOU who have read this far, this long, this often, and with this much love. I love you for loving Bill as if you are the only person in the whole wide world. Thank you, with all my sad heart. No jokes from me today.
Bethie
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Quick Update--More Later
Bill had his chemo today (his last one, depending on the MRI results! No date set for MRI yet). Lots of anti-nausea meds and steroids. He fell asleep in the chair! Then the red devil, and finally the Gemcitabine aka Gemzar.
As always, he feels GREAT right after chemo, because it's the only time his nausea leaves. And the steroids make him so high energy. We were even able to go out to eat with friends tonight! That's kind of amazing.
A beautiful moment at the end of his session. A young blond woman in the next chair, whose cancer has come back (so sad, pray for her, no name) said, "Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing your talk about nausea. I had the same problem and finally they gave me phenergen, and it stopped the whole problem instantly!" Oh! We thanked her profusely. What an angel! Gosh, I was SO MOVED by her kindness! I have a lump in my throat just thinking of it now!
So we asked Dr. Oncologist's nurse to ask Dr. Onco, and behold! A prescription has been called into our pharmacy for tomorrow! We are elated with HOPE!
Bill will soon lose any last scraggles of individual hairs that are clinging on, but his moutache seems secure. He said (and made me laugh), "I'm afraid I'm going to sneeze and my whole moustache is going to fly off!" It's all he has left.
I will write again on Sunday. He'll have a good Friday, but Saturday will crash, and probably have a difficult weekend. Then again, we're never sure.
But I will write on Sunday, no matter what is going on. Thank you waterfalls of gratitude for your loving thoughts, prayers, and good wishes for the Cowboy.
I'd make some jokes here, but it's almost midnight!
Oh, well, okay, here's just ONE: "When I die, I hope I go peacefully, quietly, and in my sleep, like my grandpa died. Not screaming hysterically like the passengers in his car."
Love you all!
Bethie and Billy
As always, he feels GREAT right after chemo, because it's the only time his nausea leaves. And the steroids make him so high energy. We were even able to go out to eat with friends tonight! That's kind of amazing.
A beautiful moment at the end of his session. A young blond woman in the next chair, whose cancer has come back (so sad, pray for her, no name) said, "Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing your talk about nausea. I had the same problem and finally they gave me phenergen, and it stopped the whole problem instantly!" Oh! We thanked her profusely. What an angel! Gosh, I was SO MOVED by her kindness! I have a lump in my throat just thinking of it now!
So we asked Dr. Oncologist's nurse to ask Dr. Onco, and behold! A prescription has been called into our pharmacy for tomorrow! We are elated with HOPE!
Bill will soon lose any last scraggles of individual hairs that are clinging on, but his moutache seems secure. He said (and made me laugh), "I'm afraid I'm going to sneeze and my whole moustache is going to fly off!" It's all he has left.
I will write again on Sunday. He'll have a good Friday, but Saturday will crash, and probably have a difficult weekend. Then again, we're never sure.
But I will write on Sunday, no matter what is going on. Thank you waterfalls of gratitude for your loving thoughts, prayers, and good wishes for the Cowboy.
I'd make some jokes here, but it's almost midnight!
Oh, well, okay, here's just ONE: "When I die, I hope I go peacefully, quietly, and in my sleep, like my grandpa died. Not screaming hysterically like the passengers in his car."
Love you all!
Bethie and Billy
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Bill is OK. And That's Good Enough for Today.
Our favorite cowboy isn't great today.
But he's almost OK.
And we're grateful for that.
We expected him to be having a good day today. In fact, he went to church before I was even awake. Left me a note by the coffee maker. I thought, well, he must feel great!
But when he came home, he looked kinda pummeled. His color is yellowish now, his lil head is pretty much a hair-free zone, tho he still has some moustache left, but no beard. Entering the house, he ran for the bed, conked out, and now is moving slowly, saying he feels flu-like symptoms (it's not the flu, tho), and complete exhaustion.
But he said to add (for church friends) that he LOVED sitting by his good friend Richard this morning.
Oh. Now he is on a roll. He's telling me what to write. I'll let him dictate:
"Tell them that probably my miseries today have a lot to do with the heat, cuz we don't have a/c. That's all. Nothin else from me. And you usually get nuthin. This time you got TWO tidbits."
That was verbatim. Well, must be my lucky day!
Upcoming Billybob drama: Thursday, the day after the 4th, he will get another dose of the devil. Thereafter, no more chemo till an MRI (at Wake Forest Baptist Hosp) tells us if it has been working or not.
It's funny: he has had a place on the back of his leg for ten years that I always swore was some kind of skin cancer, but some GP doctor in Wisconsin poo-poo'd that, with no test or biopsy. A big red circle with a life of its own--I think it looked like squamous cell. Well, since he started the red devil, darned if that thing didn't disappear! Isn't that crazy?
Also hope it's a good sign that the Red Devil is doing a Rope-A-Dope on his other tumor, the one under his heart and that's inoperable.
(Are you old enough to know what "Rope-A-Dope" is? Ha!!! Here's a hint:)
But he's almost OK.
And we're grateful for that.
We expected him to be having a good day today. In fact, he went to church before I was even awake. Left me a note by the coffee maker. I thought, well, he must feel great!
But when he came home, he looked kinda pummeled. His color is yellowish now, his lil head is pretty much a hair-free zone, tho he still has some moustache left, but no beard. Entering the house, he ran for the bed, conked out, and now is moving slowly, saying he feels flu-like symptoms (it's not the flu, tho), and complete exhaustion.
But he said to add (for church friends) that he LOVED sitting by his good friend Richard this morning.
Oh. Now he is on a roll. He's telling me what to write. I'll let him dictate:
"Tell them that probably my miseries today have a lot to do with the heat, cuz we don't have a/c. That's all. Nothin else from me. And you usually get nuthin. This time you got TWO tidbits."
That was verbatim. Well, must be my lucky day!
Upcoming Billybob drama: Thursday, the day after the 4th, he will get another dose of the devil. Thereafter, no more chemo till an MRI (at Wake Forest Baptist Hosp) tells us if it has been working or not.
It's funny: he has had a place on the back of his leg for ten years that I always swore was some kind of skin cancer, but some GP doctor in Wisconsin poo-poo'd that, with no test or biopsy. A big red circle with a life of its own--I think it looked like squamous cell. Well, since he started the red devil, darned if that thing didn't disappear! Isn't that crazy?
Also hope it's a good sign that the Red Devil is doing a Rope-A-Dope on his other tumor, the one under his heart and that's inoperable.
(Are you old enough to know what "Rope-A-Dope" is? Ha!!! Here's a hint:)
Love to you all, and thank you for tuning in. We love you and are so grateful for your prayers and your care and your love and your thoughts.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Cowboy Wompin Up on the Red Devil
That Red Devil tried to get the best of my cowboy, but my cowboy ain't fazed. Red Devil is nothin' more than a "burp" in the road to Cowboy Billy!
(Thanks to Clifford for this photo.)
Actually, Bill had a few really awful days in this round, but after he hits bottom, he starts back up again, and we're two days into improvement right now.
He had his blood test today, and while he showed some borderline-low scores, he still wasn't bad enough to need an IV booster. They also said he can come in any time he gets that 24-hour nausea, and get IV drips to knock that back, and maybe a low dose of steroids to cheer him on.
So we look forward to a very decent week upcoming. His next event is July 5th, when he gets the last dose of Red Devil before they do the MRI in Wake Forest soon thereafter, to see if the Doxyrubicin has worked on the tumor.
Gratuitous and Irrelevant Lesson on the Dangers of Gyms
I had a tiny drama with a bacterial eye infection this week, but today I got antibiotic drops, so that's that. It was in the same eye that 2 weeks ago was diagnosed with macular wrinkles and retinal membrane (no treatment needed), and the day after THAT exam was when tears started coming out of that same eye ceaselessly. The eye got gradually grosser. The Ophthalmologist admitted that the dilation drops could have been contaminated, or the equipment improperly disinfected, since I caught it the day after being there. Oops. But it could also have come from my daily gym trips.
Did you know that gyms are, per square inch, the germiest places on earth? And gyms account for a huge percentage of eye infections. You touch a piece of equipment that someone forgot to sanitize, you push your hair back or wipe the sweat off your forehead, a drop of sweat rolls down into your eye, and voila! Eye infection! Even gloves are no help. The only solution, the Dr. said, is to carry your own personal tube of hand sanitizer cream, and use it before and after EVERY SINGLE surface you touch! What a pain! But, okay. Eye infections are gross. No pinkeye for bacterial infections (only for viral), but when you wake up, your eye is glued shut and you look like something that crawled out of Stephen King's Pet Cemetary.
On that picturesque note, I conclude today's news! I probably won't write again till Sunday, as nothing should happen by then, but I'll just let you know.
Thank you always and always!
Love,
Us
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Heading Toward His Nadir, Po' Crittuh (But Miraculous Photos!)
I would have written sooner, but I kind of feel bad when I put up bad news, because it seems to upset people, then I feel guilty, and Bill kind of says, "Well maybe you should've played that down."
So I don't know what to do! I guess I'll just keep telling the truth, and if you get upset, then go have a nice hot toddy. hahaha.
Bill was fantastic on Wednesday after the shot, due to steroids and helpful IVs. Thursday, pretty great. Friday, crash 'n burn. Saturday, so sick I couldn't leave him. Sunday (today), markedly better than Saturday.
Though it's a calculus, when I say "better." Because some things are better, but some are worse.
Mainly, fever, bleeding, pain, nausea, ((((dry heaves as early as 4 am))))), red burning skin, extreme fatigue, irritability, sadness, moments of hopelessness, hair gone, and NOW throw in a new anxiety: an MRI to see if the Red Devil did anything to the tumor, or if the tumor is just continuing to grow. That's coming up and seems like it will be a HUGE turning point in his life. No date yet. May not happen until July. But! His mouth sores didn't strike this time! Prayers answered! What a huge break that was. And then, getting some days of feeling good, like a vacation from all the suffering. Huge, unexpected blessing.
Next event is just a blood test this week, and an IV drip if his blood test is bad. The following week will be the last Red Devil before the MRI to check on whether the tumor is shrinking. I'll post as things occur.
So I don't know what to do! I guess I'll just keep telling the truth, and if you get upset, then go have a nice hot toddy. hahaha.
Bill was fantastic on Wednesday after the shot, due to steroids and helpful IVs. Thursday, pretty great. Friday, crash 'n burn. Saturday, so sick I couldn't leave him. Sunday (today), markedly better than Saturday.
Though it's a calculus, when I say "better." Because some things are better, but some are worse.
Mainly, fever, bleeding, pain, nausea, ((((dry heaves as early as 4 am))))), red burning skin, extreme fatigue, irritability, sadness, moments of hopelessness, hair gone, and NOW throw in a new anxiety: an MRI to see if the Red Devil did anything to the tumor, or if the tumor is just continuing to grow. That's coming up and seems like it will be a HUGE turning point in his life. No date yet. May not happen until July. But! His mouth sores didn't strike this time! Prayers answered! What a huge break that was. And then, getting some days of feeling good, like a vacation from all the suffering. Huge, unexpected blessing.
Next event is just a blood test this week, and an IV drip if his blood test is bad. The following week will be the last Red Devil before the MRI to check on whether the tumor is shrinking. I'll post as things occur.
NOW FOR SOME GOOD NEWS! A STORY OF LOVE IN PHOTOS!
A friend of mine from high school, with whom I interact daily on Facebook (Clifford), went to Univ. of Fla. as did Bill. To these guys, apparently a Gator Brotherhood is a higher status than even blood brotherhood. Because Clifford has taken on an indescribable weight of compassion for Bill, even tho they've NEVER MET! Cliff has sent Bill flowers in Gator colors, sent me a card and encouraging messages, sent Bill a huge package containing Bill's new favorite tee shirt, a Gator Nation shirt, AND a really, really nice Gator Jacket, big, and padded and warm and beautiful! Bill is more in awe every time Clifford surprises his "Gator Brother" with something.
Well.
The biggest surprise of all came yesterday, when Clifford posted on Facebook, the words: "Solidarity with Bill" and then posted these photos, in this order, to our complete shock and surprise:
First photo: Cliff writes, "Today's shirt" to show Gator solidarity with Bill.
Below: Cliff writes, "Front before Bill." That's Cliff's head.
Below: Cliff writes, "Back before Bill." Cliff's head.
Below: Cliff writes, "Front after Bill."
Below: Cliff writes, "Back after Bill."
If there's any uncertainty about what just happened, it's this: Clifford, who has never even met Bill, just reads this blog and knows Bill through Facebook and through me, SHAVED HIS HEAD in solidarity with Bill!
I will spare you my reaction which started with shock, followed by awe, followed by tears, followed by 8 thousand posts to Clifford, in essence naming him winner of Greatest Guy in the World contest for the 21st century.
I will end this blog here. Words fail me. Words fail to convey the impact and power of THIS kind of love. Clifford, you changed all of our lives. With LOVE.
"Greater love hath no man than this: that he would lay down his (hair) for a friend."
Speechless and tearing up again,
Beffie and the Bald but not Bald-Alone Cowboy
God Bless Clifford.
And all of you for loving Bill in your own ways. We are changed by your love. THANK you.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
A FABULOUS, MARVELOUS DAY! WITH PHOTOS!
First, we have PITCHAS! OF THE COWBOY! AT THE CHEMO CLINIC!
Here he is (below) waiting for it to start, waving at the camera. Please notice and appreciate his new shoes: New Balance tennis shoes. He loves them. He is reading a new PG Wodehouse book (Uncle Fred in the Springtime) that our beloved Anna Barry recommended.
Anyway, Bill says that RIGHT NOW, he feels as good as he did as a young man, like he could ride his bike 100 miles, or golf 18, or do ANYTHING!
Why? It's the steroids! Tons of steroids! And HUGE fat intravenous bags full of anti-nausea medicine and feel-good preparations to get him ready for the Red Devil bomber, and to get him past the first couple of days.
REALLY. This feeling-great thing didn't happen the last times he got it! And I was afraid they wouldn't even give him chemo today, with how terrible he felt. He was SO beaten down yesterday and this morning, that he said his brain wasn't even working right. He said he just felt poisoned, foggy headed, depressed, nauseated 24 hours a day, and a bunch of stuff I can't write on a blog, but all bad.
Then this! We don't know how long he will feel great, but great he feels!
I'll post more frequently for the next week, as that is when the most dramatic things happen.
(Remember, if you'd rather get this blog within 1 minute of my writing it, in your email inbox, just send your email address. Then you don't have to keep checking the blog to see if it's up.)
Thank you for your prayers and love and thoughts and wishes and everythings. It's working! We are both soooooooooo grateful. THANK YOU for loving us!
We love you more! :)
Diamond Lil and Cowboy Bill
Here he is (below) waiting for it to start, waving at the camera. Please notice and appreciate his new shoes: New Balance tennis shoes. He loves them. He is reading a new PG Wodehouse book (Uncle Fred in the Springtime) that our beloved Anna Barry recommended.
BELOW, you can see the nurse giving him the Red Devil. She's in her sort of haz-mat suit giving him the bright red drug in two fat syringes. Each syringe takes a half hour to inject, via his under-skin port, into his neck artery. Ew! She wears a body suit and rubber gloves, because if it hits skin, it burns a hole all the way down. Ew, again!
He is a mighty relaxed cowboy! Isn't he sumpn? Who wouldn't love him? You can see my perpetually messy hair accidentally got into the picture (on the left).
Why? It's the steroids! Tons of steroids! And HUGE fat intravenous bags full of anti-nausea medicine and feel-good preparations to get him ready for the Red Devil bomber, and to get him past the first couple of days.
REALLY. This feeling-great thing didn't happen the last times he got it! And I was afraid they wouldn't even give him chemo today, with how terrible he felt. He was SO beaten down yesterday and this morning, that he said his brain wasn't even working right. He said he just felt poisoned, foggy headed, depressed, nauseated 24 hours a day, and a bunch of stuff I can't write on a blog, but all bad.
Then this! We don't know how long he will feel great, but great he feels!
I'll post more frequently for the next week, as that is when the most dramatic things happen.
(Remember, if you'd rather get this blog within 1 minute of my writing it, in your email inbox, just send your email address. Then you don't have to keep checking the blog to see if it's up.)
Thank you for your prayers and love and thoughts and wishes and everythings. It's working! We are both soooooooooo grateful. THANK YOU for loving us!
We love you more! :)
Diamond Lil and Cowboy Bill
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