Let me start by saying thanks to all who expressed their sympathies about little P. We are all still adjusting. While I usually quite practical about these sorts of things his death has caused me a lot of sadness. I cried a lot. I realised I was not just crying for Peanut, I was crying for me. I had not really done that. Gone there. His death was the catalyst I needed to let myself cry for myself. I was not having a pity party but I realised there were a lot of emotions all caught up in there. Sometimes as Moms we put on a pretty tough front - this gave me an permission to lower my defences.
I wrote the post the night we said goodbye and the following morning the vet called with some follow up - some pathology results had come back. You can imagine my surprise when the vet told us that Peanut had a very aggressive form of Lymphoma. Even if we had of caught it earlier there would have been nothing we could have done for him. I asked how long he had it and the vet's estimation was right about when the doctors figured mine started as well. Strange. Two ways to look at it I guess; either we both got into something (although in humans at least Lymphoma is a hard one to pin down) or as I prefer; Peanut took one for the team. My little cancer angel - we will know soon enough as we are about to get a whole lot more information.
We have passed the half way mark. (treatment three) and this Friday will mark my 4th chemo. Not only are we on the home stretch but after #4 there is a change in procedure. I get information. Much of this process has been one of hope - hope that the chemo is working, hope that we are doing the right thing, that I have the right chemo cocktail. We are about to find out. After this Friday's treatment and recovery in the following weeks I will go in for both a CT scan and a PET scan. These will determine the status of my treatment and help to identify how much cancer is left and how successful chemo has been up until this point. The good news is that 75% of people at this stage have had great success. The odds are in my favour. IF everything is going along as it should then I have chemo # 5 and 6 as planned, same cocktail. If I am in the 25% that the tumour is not shrinking as it should then we have to mix things up a bit. Change my chemo to a new type (called RICE) and add on a couple of sessions - so I will have RICE #5-8. I am not going to worry about it now, what happens, happens, I am committed to this journey no matter what it takes - but I wont pretend I have not got my fingers and toes crossed for good scan results. I am feeling pretty good about it - the doctors feel good about how things are going so I am sticking with that.
I am writing this post from my Mom's computer in Victoria. I have come over here to say my goodbyes to my Dad's longtime best friend, my uncle by proxy. B. I have known B my whole life, he was there the moment my Dad passed and now he is waiting for his time - struck with the exact same disease that my dad had. Liver cancer. It seams this last week or so has been wrought with sadness. This is the unfortunate part of life. It just reminds us once again. Hug your kids, call your Mom or Dad if you are lucky enough to be able to, mend fences, forgive. This life is all too short.
Many thanks again for play dates, soup, flowers. Generous gifts in memory of P, prayers, emails (i promise i am trying to get back to you all), patience, FB notes (so good to hear from old friends - again, I promise i am trying to get back to you), walks and most importantly LOVE.
PS. Please say a prayer for my friend A.A is beautiful, vibrant mother of 4 (eldest is 6) who has just started chemo for stage 4 colon cancer. She is only 35. A is in a good space ready for the fight ahead of her and full of positive energy but I know any extra vibes like the ones I was so lucky to receive (and continue to receive) will help. Thank you.
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