Shit-Damn. (And pass the matches.)

Today was the big day in cancer speak. The much-anticipated and long-awaited (and all those other hyphenated words) APPOINTMENT WITH THE ONCOLOGIST.

But let me back up first. I decided to take one of my exceedingly rare showers in between bouts of manic-organizing. (The hubby said, “Well now we have a house FILLED WITH ORGANIZERS.”)

And that was after being awoken by bean at 4am who was crying so loudly and calling, Moooommmmeeeee!” that I could hear her a whole floor away through my anxiety-dream-infested-sleep. So I sprinted to her door, vaulted to her side and said, “Are you okay, bean? What’s wrong?” She looked up and said, “Mommy! Lucia got to have cherry cake before bed and...I DIDN’T!!!” To which I replied through my sleepy-face haze, “No, honey. She didn’t” “Weal-wee? NO one did?” “No, honey. No one did.”

Then: “Oh. I guess I dweemed dat.” For shittin’ sakes.

So back to the shower. I needed one. Badly. And out of the corner of my ear, I halfway heard a gurgle from the toilet. But decided to ignore it and call the plumber on another day when we didn’t have an APPOINTMENT WITH THE ONCOLOGIST. We keep having those stupid clogs and the hubby’s been dropping loads in there like he’s on the shit expressway. So. I took my damned shower.

Then. There was water around my ankles. Shit-damn. Effin shower no more. I managed to wash my hair (no conditioner) and aborted mission. “Puuuuunnnnkkkkkkk!” It took miss-miss two tries to finally get my little pooper down to my new wading pool. He took one look and said, “F**k.” Yep. I agree.

So we called the plumber, set them up for right after the ONCOLOGY APPOINTMENT and went on with our day. The hubby made an emergency pooping plan with the neighbors. Bean went to school, and me on the bike with miss-miss to meet Purse Girl for late b-fast at Southside Walnut.

The day went quickly and suddenly we were AT THE CANCER CENTER. My armpits all sweaty and the OMFG cancer folder in tow, we went back to the room.

We loved the new doc on the spot. She started the appointment by saying, “Just a minute.” And left the room. Returned with a chair and said to the hubby, “It’s better to be on the same level for this.” Love her. B and I were taking the only two chairs and the hubby was up on the butcher paper perch. She wanted him to be at her eye level. A+.

So here’s the DL:

1. His cancer is rectal. Which changes the game a bit. We should’ve had pre-surgery radiation/chemo, but they didn’t know about Stage III and the rectally-challenged tumor until the surgery. So. There.
2. Since the protocol is now thrown off, our case gets sent to the tumor board (on August 17th) where our new favorite Dr. Jensen will present and get input from a team of five docs.
3. The surgery was a good one with clean margins. And she’s almost certain that the PET scan will be negative (though we cautioned her against using the ‘surprise’ word because so far every doctor has been ‘surprised’ by the negative result of each phase.) Ugh.
4. Our treatment is yet to be finally determined pending PET scan results and tumor board input. But it looks like adjuvant therapy will be the protocol.
5. Having rectal cancer vs. colon cancer ups your chances of spread to the structures in that region of the body (like bladder, pelvis, etc.), so your treatment will generally be more aggressive. Because the chances of it coming back are greater. (Another mark in the shit-damn column.)
6. We will most likely have a sandwich therapy (and we do love those). So chemo then radiation then chemo as the heel piece of bread. It will take six months total.
7. They expect to go with the EFF-YOU treatment. Which we both giggled at. FU cancer. 5-FU to be exact. (Look it up). Then a combo of 5-FU with leucovorin and oxaliplatin (or FOLFOX). Full-fox. Cause he really is a smokin fox, you know.
8. He will have to have a port put in over the next week or so. Another surgery with another round of going under anesthesia, but a very quick one. This is for the future administering of the chemo.
9. They will probably go tried and true with the treatment since he’s young. (READ: AGGRESSIVE AND GIT ‘ER DUN.)
10. The side effects will suck. But we can do it. (OR: HE can do it and I can WATCH him do it while my stomach churns and I lose my shit. But.)
11. So we still have a training session with the nurse for the chemo, a PET scan, a tumor board review, another surgery appointment, another oncology appointment, a PORT implant surgery and an appointment with the radiologist to go before we start anything.
12. Oh yea. And $11,000 worth of plumbing work to complete. Just so the hubby can use his own shitter in peace.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: You’ve Got the Love. Florence + The Machine. Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough. And things go wrong no matter what I do. Now and then it seems that life is just too much. But you've got the love I need to see me through.