I hoped I would never post this discussion

Yesterday we got the news we never wanted to hear.  My friends on this site know about my husband's 6+ year battle with colon cancer that had spread into his lungs by the time it was diagnosed.  The oncologist was sure Ian's first bludgeoning with Oxalyplatin IV chemo and Xeloda (5FU) chemo tablets would buy him 1-2yrs remission.  Ian dug deep and slowly got better and stronger and went back to his hard physical job as a truck mechanic and we went back to our "normal" lives together knowing that time was precious. 

My friends on this site have (no doubt) got sick of hearing about the wonderful times we had together in that remission that was so hard fought for.  I think I have convinced Newbie that yes, it is all worth it.  It's such a cruel battle but remission is so sweet, extra sweet when it is for so long as Ian's was.  It is so cruel that lots of people who have just as much to live for are denied such a long remission. 

5yrs 2mths after Ian went into remission abdominal pain and rising tumor markers prodded the system into action again.  On 30th August last year Ian began the Oxalyplatin/Xeloda combo again which ended on 23rd December with the news it wasn't working this time and the dozen or more tumors being measured were just getting bigger and bigger.  Between chemo regimes we snuck in a trip to celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary - no cancer was going to spoil that lovely five day trip.  Then on 22nd February Ian began Irinotecan chemo and we started paying for Avastin because it isn't publicly funded in New Zealand.  With each round of treatment Ian has got steadily more beaten by side-effects but in the week between chemos early this month we again thumbed our noses at cancer and flew to beautiful Queenstown in New Zealand's South Island and to celebrate Ian's 61st birthday we chartered a helicopter and flew over our stunning countryside and picniced high on a mountain top.

But the oncologist said three weeks ago that the Irinotecan must end - that it was, and I quote, expensive and making Ian ill.  He said the Avastin that we were paying for must also end.  And so we walked out of the chemo day ward on 13th June dreading what was to come.  In the days that followed Ian was desperately low, a combination I think of side-effects and the knowledge that active treatment was coming to an end.  After three days without a shower, shave, or dressing let alone much food he dragged himself out of bed, back into daily life again. 

Ian had the scheduled end-of-treatment CT scan on Friday and yesterday we went to the follow-up clinic to get the result.  We were told gently but firmly there was no more publicly-funded treatment available to Ian that would work.  We were (for the first time) shown the actual CT images, taking a virtual flight through Ian's body, flying past all the horrible, dreaded cancer tumors in his lungs, hovering over the collection of lymph nodes in his abdomen that are fat and swollen with cancer cells waiting to "get at" his liver which at the moment is amazingly clear.  People on this site had talked on seeing such images and we had never been given the opportunity.  How ironic that on the day the New Zealand hospital system ditched Ian (because that is what they did yesterday) we got to see those fascinating, horrible images.

Now Ian has been officially referred to the regional hospice.  We are lucky that one of the social workers there was Ian's social worker for 5+ years at the hospital so she knows many of the problems we have faced during this fight.  But it's still a very scary "line in the sand" time for us.

My brain has known since May 2006 that this time would come - my heart had it's ears and eyes covered...

Does anyone have any advice or help for me?????  I've dished out advice and hope and comfort willingly in the four months or so I've been here on this wonderful site.  I'm a giver, that's my nature.  Now I want to be a taker for once.

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  • Today started awkwardly.  What to feed my man when the morphine will bung him up given half a chance, but the radiation to the abdomen will almost certainly result in diaorrhea.  To do High Fibre or not to do High Fibre, that is the question?

    We set off for the 30ml drive in plenty of time.  I felt so worried and overwhelmed by yet another fork in the cancer road and the implications if radiation doesn't work that I drove all the way feeling physically sick.  When Ian's cellphone went off at 9.45am to remind him to take the anti-nausea meds, I could have happily reached out for my share too

    I had (belatedly) read the radiation brochure from cover to cover last night.  It mentioned that the carer can go to the treatment room on one occasion up until radiation is turned on.  I told Ian that I really needed to do that - to see the room and the machine.  It's how I operate - I don't operate well on ignorance and fear.  He agreed that would be a good idea.

    But of course when the nurse came to get him and I said can I come too to see the room, she refused point blank and said there were extra tests to be done today and it was inappropriate for me to have access.  She said I could see another day. 

    Turns out the tests were asking some of the same questions again as Monday (including where is the cancer situated!!!!) and a final confirmation that Ian was happy to have the treatment today - I guess the implication there is that I was somehow forcing him and he needed to be asked away from the dragon of a wife.

    It's not like I'm a tourist - and I'm not doing a school project.  I just wanted some sense of what my husband was having done to him today.  I sat with him through the emergency blood transfusion 7 years ago, then waited with him in the pre-op room, acted as his "unofficial nurse *** handmaiden" for his five days in hospital, held him on the toilet while he got rid of foul black ****, coaxed him to eat and sleep, put up with his oncologist's diss-ing of me whenever I had the temerity to ask questions, sat in the waiting room for every CT scan for 7 years, sat beside Ian for every one of the 18 chemotherapy treatments over the years and the fourteen mouse antibody treatments.  I have done the hard yards.  I have fetched, carried, cleaned up messes, cooked, done Ian's chores - and continue to do so.

    Did Ian stick up for me today?? Did he stick up for me when the oncologist used to belittle me for asking questions - and on one occasion asked our patient advocate in front of us "Can you do something with her?"

    The answer no!!  Our social worker says I am Ian's strongest, most fierce advocate.  Unfortunately Ian is not mine - and I am bitterly disappointed and deeply hurt.  If he had said "Are you sure Lorraine can't just get a look in the door" and they had still said No, I would have felt that at least Ian was fighting my corner but no..............................

    It sounds such a trivial thing when I read what I've typed - I know I am being pathetic and self-pitying.  But "they" don't mind when I do all the cleaning up of the messes they create and I soothe him when he's frightened and distressed - but let me see inside the door of a room - HEAVEN FORBID.

    On the way home I told him I was angry and hurt and that tomorrow I will wait in the car - like the biddable little lady I am supposed to be.  I was still smouldering an hour after we got home so I grabbed an icecream out of the freezer and some bread and drove to the local park to feed the ducks and take some extremely rare ME time.  Wouldn't you know it Ian was asleep when I left and still asleep when I returned an hour later.  So he doesn't even know I was THAT angry or needed time away from him.

    But as I am sure many of you will be thinking reading this - It Isn't About You Lorraine!!

    I hope when I post next I have found my sense of humor again.


  • Hi Lorr,

    This is a difficult part of our journey that, because we love our spouses, we tend not to talk about. Yes indeed when we fess up to oncologists, surgeons, nurses, even porters we sometimes find that our spouses are saying "don't rock the boat" as if we had some agenda personal to us to pursue.

    We go in to bat for them and they either directly or indirectly say "back off" and make us feel like we're being...selfish...pig-headed...difficult... whatever... for some motive that is nothing to do with our love for them.

    Ok Ian and Jan are scared, and sometimes when they're scared they can't handle the people who are supposed to know about these things (medics)  being challenged by ordinary people who happen to be closest to them (us).

    Even if we've discussed it beforehand Jan has sometimes said "If they say you can't come in you can't". The why, the what's best for you; go out of the window. Sometimes she would move from a waiting room to a chair in a corridor, wait an hour to be seen and then complain that I hadn't been more assertive about staying with her when it was she that had told me not to!

    So we forgive and forget. After all you and I aren't going through cancer, (at least yet). And we know the emotional journey for our partners will be at least as bad as ours. We still feel angry with them sometimes, and we feel guilty about our anger.

    It's ok to be angry with someone who has cancer. It's an awful disease but it doesn't mean that you have any moral right to trash everyone around you.

    It's stupid not to forgive somebody who has cancer. It's an awful disease and it might incline you to behave in ways that damage people around you.

    Just tell him Lorr, that's all, not accuse him, not attack him, not blame him, just tell him how it made you feel.

    Also tell him that you love him and that if he makes it clear what he wants you'll go along with it. But don't go for a walk and expect him to be awake and notice your absence. Tell him what you're feeling, in words, not by slipping away quietly and hoping he'll notice you're gone.

    So there's some advice, good or bad, from somebody who can't even open this discussion with Jan. There are things I'm furious about which I've never spoken to her about. I try to support her and, for good or ill, she ignores what I'm asking and goes with whatever the hospital is suggesting.

    Damn her/bless her. That's the way it goes. Testing times for all of us eh?

    Love to both of you.

    Russ

  • Hi Lorr,  Angry at the medics, I can understand that, I wonder sometimes that they have no idea what the demands and stresses are on carers. After my hubbys 6 hour op I asked if he would be able to deal with stairs when he first returned home, and what he would  need   -        ' Oh he'll be fully independant, there's no need to fuss' came the reply.    -   Our lounge is upstairs and the loo is downstairs and we had been warned to expect incontinence for several weeks, so seemed a sensible question to me. I felt very surplus, especialy as my hubby said 'don't bother her, she's a very busy person'. (as if I was't) In retrospect I think he was just knacked and did'nt need to hear the hassle.   As it happened he came home with a bag for a fortnight. But after that we had to fight to get an assessment  as no an appt with the incontinence nurse   -   two month waiting list.

    Not quite as far as you, but  25 miles from the hospt , who was driving him home from hospt, who was going to be dealing with the linen and washing, who was driving around hunting for stockist of pads?  Who needed to know if a comfy chair  needed to be hauling downstairs so on the same level as the loo, etc etc.    Silly woman had no idea.

    While my daughter was having radiotherapy we had several appts when there was no nurse trained to give anti-sickness via a hickman line direct into the blood stream. This was when she was being very sick from chemo hence oral did not stay down, she needed her head bolted down so the radiotherapy could be lined up, such a brave 10 year old.  Me, I was furious and very scared she would choke.  We live on a knife edge watching and fearing for our loved ones, I think we can be forgiven when we go off on one if we think things could be done better.

    We need the re-assurance as to what to expect, then we have something we can  deal with it and can be of use to our loved ones.  When we have no solid infomation it is so difficult, stressful and scarry.  You are in such a horrid place at the moment .  It's so sad to hear you are not your normal up-beat self,  but thank goodness we can come on here and be ourselves. 

    You are such an inspiration to  all of us who are following your plite. Please don't allow the yesterdays, (or the tomorrows) to soil the todays.

    I hope the treatment has eased Ian's discomfort, take care, both of you, gardenlady.

  • Gardenlady - what are you doing up at this hour in the UK?  I have the excuse that it is 5pm and a bright, sunny spring day in New Zealand - so what am I doing at the computer you ask??? Actually I was doing a bit in my garden as Me Time but I got so hot and flustered I sought the shade of my kitchen/computer desk!!

    Thank you for your post.  It's lovely (but awful) to hear someone else with the same issues.  It shouldn't be necessary for us to have problems should it?  Ian was given a brochure at treatment yesterday entitled "Patients' Rights."  Needless to say there was no brochure with Carers' Rights!!!!!!!

    That was all I wanted yesterday - the reassurance of seeing the room and being able to picture Ian and send my love to him through the walls.  I wasn't actually expecting to be the one with my finger on the trigger so to speak.

    Thanks again for your understanding and compassion.

    Lorraine

  • Hi Lorraine

    Just wondering how you are doing? As I sit here watching the rain fall and whacking up the heating (and gulping at the thought of our heating bill...!!) I'm hoping you've been having another spring day in the garden - it's good for the soul to be outside in the fresh air I always think. However it's a bit TOO fresh here - I spent the day yesterday outside FREEZING whilst watching my son's football practice and then at the other extreme watching my daughter's swimming (and in there it's like a sauna) and by the end of that my internal temperature gauge didn't know whether it was coming or going. Anyway just wondered how you are, and hoping you are OK (and personally hoping you are being a bit kinder to yourself... hope it doesn't sound condescending (not sure if that's the right word actually but you probably know what I mean! but I was reflecting as I was sweating/acquiring frostbite, about your comments eg being a very selfish person - I don't buy that at all and I do think you are very harsh on yourself... cut yourself some slack...)

    Hugs,

    Vikki

  • Funny you should say "Cut yourself some slack" Vikki.  Our social worker has said the very same thing to me several times in the past.  P'raps it's time I started listening to other people's advice eh??? 

    I would love to be talking about all the last few days have brought us to our social worker - but wouldn't you know it, our ravving about the gorgeousness of cruise travel hit its mark and she and her husband and little girl are cruising in the Pacific Ocean as I type.  It's so crazy that every time Ian and I have huge issues, Andrea is somewhere exotic - does she have radar for tough times ahead hahahaha!!  Last year when the Cancer Support Nurse on the chemo dayward told Ian "he was dying and he might like to cease chemo and enjoy his last days in relative good health" we needed Andrea badly to put that advice in perspective - and she was in Nigeria at a friends wedding   Now, she's floating about the Pacific, sipping cocktails and playing deck quiots   I don't know - staff!!!! Hahahaha.

    I am up and dressed and ready to drive Ian 30 miles to radiation.  But I am adamant I will not go to the waiting room with him.  From arrival to departure is only 15 minutes anyway and I have better things to occupy me than obey the nurses instructions last week to Ian "to leave your valuables with your wife." Do I look like a rotweiller?? No - don't answer that!!!!

    By complete spooky synchronicity, just as I had given up finding a home in the suburb of my choice, facing the North for maximum sunshine and outdoor privacy, built in brick - not plaster (one of Ian's pet hates with NZ's problems with "leaky" plaster homes), without interior guttering (another of Ian's bugbears), with enough lawn and deck to keep the cats occupied, a bit of raised veg garden to keep me off the streets, within walking distance of a little shopping centre, on a bus route, I found THE HOUSE.  When I did my "hissy fit" on Saturday and went to the duck pond I bought a newspaper and was flicking through the real estate pages.  KAPOW!! There it was - the house I can picture myself living in for years to come, in "my" suburb, close to (but not suffocated by) the city with cinemas, cafes, big library, amateur theatre and maybe the better chance of a part-time job than our tiny little town with so many people who turn their back on me knowing Ian is dying.

    So I will drop Ian at the hospital and drive to the real estate agent - praying to the Angel of Real Estate that the house hasn't sold.  I will get an information pack and make a tentative booking for a viewing tomorrow after radiation.  If all went well, we can divide our time between both houses.  When Ian gets really sick we would be just minutes from the hospice in the "new" house which would be so much better than being 40 minutes away.  And best of all, we would have some history together in my new home.

    Could something be going right for a change......................?

    Lorraine

  • Hi Elkay,  So pleased you've managed to talk and things are looking up,   sounds very strange looking for a house facing North, but then we had hail and ice outside the back door last Saturday and your coming in to cool down.....   Really hope the house works out it will  give Ian some re-assurance knowing your sorting things again!  In your own way of-course.  Going off on one give us time to re-focus, thank goodness for ducks.

    How much do they pay social workers down in your neck of the woods, must be better than here.

    take care, gardenlady.

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  • Hi Elkay,  So pleased you've managed to talk and things are looking up,   sounds very strange looking for a house facing North, but then we had hail and ice outside the back door last Saturday and your coming in to cool down.....   Really hope the house works out it will  give Ian some re-assurance knowing your sorting things again!  In your own way of-course.  Going off on one give us time to re-focus, thank goodness for ducks.

    How much do they pay social workers down in your neck of the woods, must be better than here.

    take care, gardenlady.

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