Observing My Husband

An Update of sorts...

Over 3 years ago, I noticed the changes in my husband as his still undiagnosed prostate cancer worked its way deeper into his body and metastasized. I spent over two years arguing with the (former) GP to get a PSA test done on him, and I've spent the past year dealing with the effects of that neglect. Inoperable metastatic prostate cancer. My husband has been receiving chemotherapy since March this year, and his 9 weeks of radiation therapy is scheduled to come to an end on December 17th. The radiation has not been kind to him, and many days he's been too sick to eat. Seeing that come to an end and him possibly feeling better will be a happy occasion indeed!

On the other hand, he will probably be on chemotherapy for the rest of his life, and fortunately, his body has tolerated the effects of it really well. The lack of testosterone and subsequent increase in estrogen and its effects on him physically, mentally, and emotionally have been interesting. While not what I would call stoic, he wasn't one to express his emotions with me. Now there is a lovely spectrum coming from him. His Love is expressed in many ways, as are his fears, desires, and sharing his needs. It really is beautiful to have him share with me. His understanding of what I'm feeling and why I'm feeling that way has increased to a point where not only will he reach for me, but his ability to empathize with me is amazing. He has become my mirror, and with all the pain and confusion there's been, it allows for healing in ways beyond my imagination.

Always comfortable with his masculinity, he has continued to be so, and has embraced the physical effects of the lack of testosterone. He knows that I enjoy the breast growth, and I don't poke at him, remembering what it was like when my breasts started developing. In fact, I'm more likely to ask his permission before handling him. He's undergone so many changes, that I feel it would be selfish for me to force things on him. I like to think of him as the same man I married 6+ years ago but with upgrades.

I remember being told in January that chemotherapy for prostate cancer had a different effect than the more "traditional" chemotherapy, and I'm so glad I didn't convince him to shave off all his lovely hair. His lovely hair and nice butt were the things that initially attracted me to him. He still has that.

I understand that some people wouldn't like the effects of increased estrogen, which include breast growth, shrinkage of the penis and testes, decreased libido, and all the emotional changes as well, but in my opinion, it beats dying of cancer. It's a matter of deciding what is more important in your relationship: having one where your partner has a chance of survival or not having a partner at all.

Is it hard? Well, I have had days where I struggled to not feel sorry for both him and myself, and cried so many tears that I became thirsty from dehydration. I am NOT exaggerating! Then there was our 6 year wedding anniversary weekend in September where he was feeling well enough to travel, and we went to Ventura with me driving, and had a wonderful time doing a few of his "Bucket List" items. He was even looking healthy then, and I have pictures that I will treasure. I'll say that I'm constantly learning how to roll with the punches. We both are.

Having an extended support system of friends and loved ones has made it easier, and I know that most of them are only a call or text away. Having someone who will hold my hand and/or cry with me allows me to focus on the important stuff. The sadness never stays long, and worry? Well life is full of worries, so why allow it to rule me? I can easily come up with a list of friends and family who are having a difficult time right now, so I know we aren't alone, and if I can shine a light or light a candle to help them through the dark, then my job is done. I know they will do the same for me.

The Lost Wife (who is finding her way and no longer waiting)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzutyUquD5A

Some Nights Are Like This

It's well after 3AM on a Sunday, and I can't sleep. I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm feeling more worried than usual, and I'm not sure why. Uneasiness will often creep in at the strangest times.  I get it. How could I not be worried?  My Husband has cancer, and even though I work hard to not let that fact color my life and thoughts, sometimes it does. 

Is he dying? Well, we're all dying. Some faster than others. Death is an unpredictable thing, but we're all going to do it (die) sooner or later.  I remember being about 12 and waking up in the middle of the night crying, and my mother came in my room when she heard me sobbing.  "I don't want to die!" I said. She reassured me that I had a long life ahead of me and to not worry about it. I've been close to death a few times since then, but medical science is amazing.  I don't worry much about my death these days, but I still do worry about death, especially as I watch my friends in their 50's and 60's die of all sorts of things.

So, yeah, I worry, and sometimes the worry keeps me up at night, as if my staying awake at night is going to help it.  (Spoiler Alert: It's not!) He saw me get out of bed, and get dressed to come into the kitchen where the computer is.  He asked my why, and I told him I couldn't sleep. What I didn't say is how worried I am. Some would say needlessly, but I think I have just cause. Hey! It's my life, and my nightmare, and I reserve the right to feel how I do. It doesn't have to make sense to anyone else. 

Just over 2 weeks ago, our Best Man died. His wife was my Maid of Honor.  They got married a little over 2 years ago. He was 62, same age as my husband. She's 5 years younger than me (52) and yes, he had a chronic condition, but he wasn't particularly ill at that moment. She's lost, easily as lost as I would be if my Husband died, maybe moreso. I don't know how she feels. I've even said as much to her, and I can only imagine her grief and despair. I have  what I call "anticipatory grief and despair." Mourning a loss before it comes. 

I had it when my oldest sister was dying. She was very sick for a few years, and I was her caregiver. I would often cry alone at night, knowing that one day (maybe today?) would be her last, and even with all my mental preparation, the day she died, it caught me by surprise. I told her friend "I thought she had a few more days" when explaining why she didn't need to come for her planned visit in a few days.

I don't know if writing this helps me or not, but it clears my head a little. Speaking of writing, I carried on 4 separate text conversations on Saturday afternoon.  It might not seen unusual to anyone reading this, until you realize just how much I hate texting. I detest it. Yet, I did it, because it was practical at the moment. None of them were particularly bright and pleasant, mostly commiserating about life and death, and bills, but I wrote a few gems, and I would be remiss if I didn't share what I wrote.

"You are living my worst nightmare, and knowing that is so very hard. I just want to give you what I think I would want. I have deep feels for you."

"Some people won't know what to say or how to act around you."

"You're just too damn young to have to go through all this."

"It's not like a divorce, where you know he's around someplace and you're trying things on your own, it's more like he skipped town and left you with nothing."

"I'm not trying to make light of this at all."

"I told her she is living my worst nightmare."

"I hope I can be there for you."

"Not much day to day stuff. Just the overall insanity."

"Some people are afraid it's contagious, so they just avoid discussing things with me. My friend gets the same thing."

"I don't mean literally contagious, I mean that they just don't know how to act, so they don't do much of anything. I don't blame them. It's scary. Besides, I know you're there if I really need you."

"You go through enough as it is, and I will admit that I've been pushing people away too. I'm not sad all the time like I was, but I still don't want people to see me like this."

"Cancer is just scary, especially when it can't be treated by surgery, and it's spread to parts unknown."

"How is he coming along?"

"Oh gawd, the hospital bills! Let's not even get started talking about that.. (squinting face) " 

"Pride? What's pride? I gave up on that one a long time ago. When you get old like me, you kind of give up on that one. It's easier to just relax."

Okay, now I feel better. Maybe I'll try to sleep.

Last Week, You Ask?

Making The Struggle Worth The Hassle...

I'm not made for emotional pain and heartache. It destroys me to the core. The situation with my Husband's prostate cancer has all but destroyed me in so many ways, yet I still come out fighting. Fighting for him, because when it all comes down to the basics, he is MY Husband. MINE!!! and there isn't a single person on earth who will feel his loss as much as me, or even the same way that I would. Keeping him alive and feeling well is my number one priority. I might destroy myself in the process, but as long as he is alive and feeling well, I win. I would gladly sacrifice my life for him, and these aren't just words on a page or a computer document. I mean it, and unless you've seen me, the whole me, you have no idea just how strongly I feel that.

Now, before I go off on a tangent, One of the final things the original GP did was refer my Husband to an Oncologist. This wasn't just an Oncologist, but one of the best and highest rated in the area, but we didn't know that. All we knew was that this Oncologist was local, and he had a funny name. The appointment was on Monday last week (3-18), and after all the stress, we didn't have very high hopes. The pile of paperwork they handed to my Husband was more than he's ever filled out before. When he was called in, we went into a nice exam room and waited. My emotions have been all over the place, and my husband has been guarded in showing his since the last breakdown in tears over a month ago, and this Oncologist with the funny name put us both at ease, and he listened. Being heard is the one thing that was lacking with our original GP, and I've had it with false reassurances. I want the truth, my Husband wants the truth, and both of us want to do whatever we can so my Husband lives as long as possible, and stays feeling well.

The Bad News:

I'm not a fool. I spent years caring for people who were close to death, and I've seen more than my share of people dying, so when the Oncologist said that if my husband went untreated, he could expect to live "maybe a year." I wasn't surprised. I kind of expected it. After all, my Husband had advanced aggressive metastatic prostate cancer that is in his lymph system.

The Good News:

The Oncologist said that the first line of defense was prescribing an anti-androgen medication that would reduce the testosterone in my Husband's body, because prostate cancer feeds on testosterone. Casodex taken once a day decreases testosterone production.

The Treatment Plan:

According to the Oncologist, Casodex will often stop the prostate cancer in its tracks. Lupron injections will be used as well, but sometimes Lupron will actually increase the testosterone levels at first, which is why they start with Casodex. Another side effect is that his hair on his head might even grow! (yummy long hair!) That made me smile, because I love my Husband's long hair, and I was afraid it might fall out. Apparently not with the starting treatments.

Tests Ordered:

1. Blood tests for PSA and Testosterone as a start, because there's a good chance that those have both increased, and the goal is to get the PSA to 0 (zero) This will be done on a regular basis.

2. Full body CT scan to find out how much the cancer has metastasized. Ordered as URGENT but we're still waiting on insurance to approve the test.

3. Brain MRI to determine if the cancer has metastasized to the brain. Ordered as URGENT but we're still waiting on insurance to approve the test.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The NEW GP:

Strangely enough, my Husband's new GP also has a funny last name, and when I tell people they laugh, because one is the opposite of the other.

Negative Things:

Parking is difficult to find. We also had to wait in the waiting room for about an hour, and then another hour in the exam room.

Positive Things:

When the doctor came in, he was thorough. In fact, he spent over an hour talking and asking important questions, including about the prostate cancer. He ordered a full panel of blood tests for my husband including blood sugar, A1C, liver function and kidney function, plus a few others I can't remember. He was definitely worth the wait.

How We Feel:

We finally feel like our concerns are being taken seriously. We're feeling much more positive and good because both the Oncologist and GP are actively listening and involved, and not leaving us in the dark. Yes, this is an uphill battle, and I've been under extreme stress, and it has affected my general health, but I know it will get better. My husband is slowly starting to talk about things, and I think that our relationship will only improve. No longer feeling helpless, I'm speaking up, and (finally!) my husband is too. We also jointly decided that appointments are to be made in the early afternoon.

Still, we wait, but no longer passively.

What I'm Doing

Trying To Turn An Anvil Into A Grain of Sand

I'm trying, but failing miserably, so please turn on the following symphony and listen to it as you read the following:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFZoaTCrggQ

If you've been reading long enough, you know that I begged our family doctor to do a PSA test on my husband over 2 years ago to no avail. By the time we got the results from the Urologist a month ago (1-25) that my husband had aggressive prostate cancer, it wasn't a surprise. 

I suspected, and I think my husband suspected, that it wasn't just the prostate. With a PSA of 120 (Normal is 4!!!), and a gleason scale of 9 (on a range of 1-10, with 10 being the worst) the likelihood of it being in just the prostate was very slim, but one can hope and pray, and that's what we and others did.

There was a pelvic CT/MRI on 2-8, to see if the cancer has metastasized to the lymph system, followed by a bone scan on 2-15 to see if it had spread to the bones. I was allowed to watch the bone scan, and was relieved to see no "hot spots." {picture} (https://myhealth.alberta.ca/Health/pages/conditions.aspx?hwid=zm6038) Cancer in the bones is almost always a quick and dirty death sentence. Still, there was the pelvic CT/MRI that I didn't watch, and that was a concern for me.

We arrived at the Urologist's office on Friday, and instead of the usual large office with all the surgical equipment, we were ushered into a small room with a cute painting on the wall. Here it is:

Yes, they're all eating donuts! Oh, and my husband is smiling in that picture. 

So, we waited, not very long, either, and before the Urologist could say anything, I asked a few questions, because, honestly, I knew he told me, but it's all been so overwhelming that it never registered. It's funny how nice people are when they realize you're dying. He was very soft and patient with me,  so I knew he had something unpleasant to say. Why else would he put us in such a bright cheerful room?

He started out with the "good" news but didn't call it good news (those are my words), there were no "hot spots" on the bone scan, (which I already knew) so the cancer hadn't spread to the bones, and I waited, dreading the next one.  Then he said, "Unfortunately, the cancer has spread into your lymph system." My husband just sat there as tears started to roll down my face. I cried silently, as the Urologist said he would send the results to our PCP, who would refer my husband to an Oncologist and a Radiation Therapy Doctor.  My Husband got up and handed me a tissue, and told me "Don't cry honey." I don't think he realized how serious it was at the time. I thanked the Urologist for being so kind, and we left. 

Once we were outside, I started to cry again, still silently, and I asked him if he knew why I was crying. Then I told him that he was just given a death sentence with 6 months to maybe 2 years to live. He didn't say anything, but went on like everything was okay. It was 9:30 when we left and headed home, and I felt like I had gone through a full day. Since I was so upset, my husband insisted (as did my Friend) that I go and spend the weekend with my Friend. Who was I to object? When we got home, I went down for a much-needed nap. Just as I was about to get up around 1, my Husband came in the room, got into bed, and holding me, began to cry. Loudly.  The reality finally hit him.  The last time he cried prior to that was 3 years ago, about a month after the death of his Mother. I just held him and reassured him that I would keep my promise and take care of him. 

I've done quite a bit of crying since then, including a few times while writing this, but I feel I have good reason. I decided to wait until today to write this because it was just too fresh on Friday.  

I have a huge mental list of things I need to do, things he needs to do, and meetings with various family and Family members. 

And, as always... we wait.