Hibernation

Jenny here. I can't believe it is Wednesday already.  I know some have been asking for an update. I feel like we just got home and just laid down for a rest a few hours ago...and then I realize today I have no idea what date it is now. I can only describe our week as quiet as Wil struggles with chemo induced torpidity.  

The good news:  He is holding up well.  There are dry heaves at meal time, feet/hand numbness and tingling, metallic taste to food, and overall "weirdness" (as Wil describes it), but he is still sleeping and eating well.  And his anxiety has subsided.  It's good to be home, even if being home are the parts of each round where he will feel the worst.

Monday we had his follow up at the clinic. His levels are all still good and that liver is holding up. His WBC (white blood count) is starting to dip, as expected, and will continue to do so, but he has not hit bottom. Generally 7-10 days after chemo starts is when you start to see more side effects and lower counts. We are at day 8.  But we all know Wil is unique so time will tell. His BP was very low Monday and he was dizzy and tired.  It took about 8 attempts to get a reading. A bag of saline and med adjustment seemed to do the trick. Friday we will go back to the clinic and he will have another round of outpatient Vincristine (chemo).  This is the drug that is responsible for the hand/feet issues. 

Biology:  Our lizard brains, full of instinct, try to help us react to changes so we can adjust and survive. Lately, we try to make sense of how something that causes harm and sickness is also a cure. We are driven toward safe and pleasant feelings and experiences by instinct. We try to adapt. It's what makes cancer treatment so...counter intuitive. We have physical, emotional, and mental pain throughout this journey toward vitality. 

We try to focus on the fact that chemo is the blessing right now. That healing comes in all shapes and sizes. That we don't know the big picture here.  Beyond my primal instincts, I have to come to terms with all the things I can't change about this...that I dare not put Wil's healing journey, and with it our life journey, in a box of what I want it to be. Isn't that one of the lessons here?  It's why we pray for strength and tenacity.  We just don't know all the possibilities that can come from this situation. 

So sometimes, we animals, in a new stage of life beyond our control, adapt through inactivity, through hibernation, by allowing time to acclimate us to a new terrain.  It's a stroke of biological genius if you ask me. And this week, hibernation, that's what we both have been doing.  We are almost done with Dexter. I'm cooking up Wil's favorites, and we are sleeping in, no alarm clock setting on days with no appointments. I'm still working in the evenings, but mornings are sweet silver linings of quiet, pancakes, naps, and TV.  I'm so blessed to have this time with Wil. Even when I can't sleep and he is exhausted, he says "don't leave me" and I take my iPad to the bed so we can just be near each other. He is ok on his own. So am I. But we want to be close. All. The. Time. How many people married for near 14 years can say that?  It's good for mind, body, and soul.   

I just love this guy. 

For those of you wondering, the pets are attempting to acclimate too. Monday also brought about another loss of normal as the pets came back from my sister's house. They were excited to see us, only to be confronted with their own loss:  of freedom and comfort and togetherness. The only way to keep them and keep Wil safe includes gates, new sleeping arrangements, and no direct contact with Wil. In what can only seem like a movie clip, pet loving Wil has to remind them to go away.  They have to be contained when I'm not home. And no more sleeping in our bedroom. The first few nights have gone as expected. Crying, whining, sadness. They look defeated and there is no way to explain to them this for the best and won't be forever. Both had diarrhea the first day from all the stress. Cancer changes everything, friends...but impossible to explain to these little faces.