Just read the notes out of my April planner to the Pirate Husband. The month that changed our lives.
- Passover
- Opened a new business
- Flew to Jacksonville for spring break with the P.H.
- Drove home to Ohio from Florida with the P.H.
- Celebrated our anniversary
- The Pirate Husband alerted me that he wasn't well
- Family Doctor visit
- Drove back to Florida from Ohio
- Put his boat, Sixteen Tons, up onshore
- Heard the P.H. say to his boat, "Oh, I love you, baby."
- Drove home to Ohio from Florida
- Tradeshow in Indianapolis
- Death of a dear friend
- Bought a new car
- Family dinner - very blessed
- Contacted by an unknown birth sister
- First Cleveland Clinic appointment
- Tests, tests, and more tests = stage III colon cancer
- Overnight trip to the Cleveland Clinic
- More tests, two additional Cleveland Clinic doctors
It's ironic how that quote from "Star Trek" came to mind. We are certainly going where we haven't been before - not confident of how boldly, however; we are truly seeking out life, exploring the strange, new world of radiation and chemotherapy, and the lead doctor did promise five more years.
For the record, five more years - pfft...yeah, right. That Pirate Husband owes me at least fifteen more of his original promise, as well as two additional years for his time away on his "life journey"/boat adventure.
When your life is on the line, who do you trust? The guy in the white coat? The studies from online medical journals? The testimonials of people who chose surgery, followed by super healthy lifestyle? The Cleveland Clinic, a multibillion dollar company (business is good)? Suzanne Somers? Clinical trials of immunotherapy at Johns Hopkins? The information on the Internet? Disinformation on the Internet? Whose statistics can you believe?
The plan is neoadjuvant therapy. Five and a half weeks of hard-hitting chemo and external beam radiation. Then an eight week "rest" - recovery. Surgery. Four and a half additional months of chemo. Since the Pirate Husband may someday read this blog post, I will forego the description of my greatest chemo fears. He knows I am against chemo but his hope is that it will destroy all the rogue cancer cells once and for all. My hope and prayer is that it doesn't destroy him; that would destroy me.
Our family has a very deep faith in the LORD. He carries us. He also allows us to make our own choices. He still carries us.
I cannot say that I don't have peace; I do. But I cried those April showers....what will May bring? Week one: ten appointments at the Cleveland Clinic - just in week one.
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