On July 1, we found that his PSA is continuing to decrease and is at a 20.
In February, when chemo started, his PSA was at 101.
Chemo is working!
Hallelujah!
Why?
Because even though chemo is working and the PSA is continuing to decrease, each treatment is harsher and it's really starting to take its toll on him - physically and mentally.
It's pretty fascinating when I think about how it's actually become quite predictable at this point. Chemo treatments are once every three weeks on a Thursday. The "bad period" lasts about a week and a day after chemo - meaning the Friday a week after the Thursday chemo - he starts rejoining the land of the living. But when he's in that bad period, he feels as if he's never going to come out of it. It used to be that he could get through the bad days because he knew the good days were just around the corner. The last few treatments; however, have been down right miserable and unbearable. At times, there's just no rationalizing with him.
He's weak.
He's frustrated because he gets exhausted doing everyday routine things.
He gets mad because what used to be such an easy task he just can't do any longer.
All food tastes like cardboard. Even water tastes bad.
His fingernails and toenails are blackening and brittle.
His feet tingle so bad that he has to take an oxy just to be able to sleep at night.
I never want to diminish how he's feeling or what he is going through because I know it is pure hell. In fact, it absolutely destroys me to the depths of my heart and soul to see him enduring this nightmare but.... I also do my best to try to encourage him and remind him that this too shall pass.
There IS a light at the end of the tunnel. We see it with each cycle and THAT is what he needs to focus on each time. That Friday a week after the Thursday chemo, he WILL start feeling good again. I must admit with each treatment it is harder for him and harder for me and my mom. Mom and I do absolutely everything we can but we also realize that it's often just not enough. He, unfortunately, has to battle this physical burden on his own and all we can do is take a deep breath, do the best we can to encourage him and support him, and pray for those good days to arrive quickly.
I remind him of how this all started last Fall:
He was in tremendous 24/7 pain.
He couldn't go four hours without taking a narcotic and that still didn't instantly make the pain disappear.
He was walking with a cane because he was hurting so badly.
He couldn't sleep because of the pain.
You could visibly see the knot on the back of his head where the cancer had spread to the skull bone. His back, side and hip were sources of agony.
No treatment was currently working. The cancer was continuing to grow at a fast pace.
I remind him of how what he's going through is pure hell BUT it could be so much worse:
What if chemo wasn't working?
What if he felt this bad and it wasn't making a difference?
What if the PSA wasn't decreasing but still doubling every four weeks?
What if he was vomiting 24/7?
What if he had to be hospitalized?
What if he was still having insufferable pain on top of how he's feeling now?
What if there were no good days to look forward to?
What if every day since chemo started in February was a bad day?
What if his taste buds never came back?
What if he still had to take narcotics 24/7?
What if the cancer was still spreading?
What if he was given a timeframe left on his life?
Thank God, none of those things are happening!!!!
So what do we do?
We must continue to take one day at a time. We must power through the bad days with our focus being on the good days that are approaching. We must take a deep breath and suck down that daily ton of water so that we don't become even more dehydrated than chemo already makes us. We must plug our nose and eat that food so that we don't become weaker. We must rest on the bad days because we all know that our bodies heal when they are resting. We must take a step back and realize it is ok to let someone help us do the things that we can't do as easily anymore. It is not admitting defeat. It is allowing others to help because they want to and because it's a simple fix!
I know I'm not going through this - he is. I know that I am not feeling the anguish and frustration that he is feeling. I know he knows all of this because I have these conversations with him all the time but it's reinforcing it and it's BELIEVING it that has to occur.
To all of Dad's friends and family, I have a few easy but important ways you can help:
1. Please continue to pray. Prayers are what have gotten Dad this far. They DO work! He is living proof. But pray not only for the cancer to be gone and for the PSA to continue to decrease, but pray for physical and mental strength for Dad to continue to fight this battle!
2. Please STOP asking him how many chemo treatments he has left. There is no set amount of treatments. There never has been. I'll continue to say what I've been saying - chemo is working. We keep doing chemo until it stops working or his body can't tolerate it any longer. Those two things aren't happening and hopefully won't happen. The goal is to get his PSA to a 0. At that point, we will do scans again to see if there is any evidence of cancer. If there isn't, then chemo ends. However, the PSA will continue to be monitored. Continuing to ask him when his last treatment is does not help matters any because all he wants is for this poison to stop being pumped through is body. The more you ask the more demoralizing it becomes because he wants an end date and there isn't one. We will do what we need to do and have as many treatments as it takes to get rid of this cowardly disease.
3. When you see him or talk to him, don't focus on his health and the fact that he has prostate cancer. My father may have cancer but cancer is not what my father is about. Treat him like you've always treated him. He happens to be battling a terrible disease but he's not a different person. He is living with this 24/7. He doesn't want to talk about it 24/7. Treat him as you always have - no differently. I have learned from so many other friends who have battled cancer, that the worst thing you can do is treat them differently; yet everyone always does. (That one was for you, my sweet Peggy!)
4. Visit him. Call him. Send him an email or a card. Offer to go out to lunch. Offer to bring food over. Offer to have a beer or a glass of wine during his good days. Offer to just come over and hang out. If he doesn't feel like it, he'll tell you! But it will mean more than you know to even ask!
Right now, he's in the midst of his "good period" and we need to focus on turning those good days into great days! Next Thursday, July 16, will be Chemo #8 and we'll begin this vicious cycle yet again. I still don't understand, in the year 2015, why we haven't found a better way to get rid of this disease than by poisoning human beings in the process.
But again, at least chemo is an option. Without it, I don't want to even think about where we'd be right now.
However, to put it bluntly, this shit downright sucks.
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