Here we go...

We're going forward with the second chemo drug tomorrow. I say we, but it's Mike who will be sitting in the chair with an IV in his port, toxic drugs coursing through his veins...

It was not a decision made lightly but one we feel is necessary. We know this drug has reduced the tumors before so we need to at least give it a second try because we're at such a critical point. Of course, it was this drug that was partly responsible for sending Mike to the hospital for almost three weeks earlier this year. So we have to be on alert, and at the first sign of dehydration or stomach trouble, he has to call the doctor and start getting fluids and medications. This will hopefully ward off the conditions that landed him in the hospital because Dr. Neel said Mike wouldn't survive another setback like that.

What an ugly decision to have to make. Do we try the drug that has been known to shrink Mike's tumors but might kill him? Or do we stick with just the one drug that may or may not work on its own and send Mike into liver failure if it's the latter? I hope and pray we made the right choice.

At this moment, I am torn between being scared to death and determined more than ever that we are ready for this fight.

'A critical juncture'

That's where we are, what it's come to. A critical juncture. Those are Dr. Neel's words. We knew that the cancer had progressed. We didn't know how much, until today.

The entire liver is now involved. It's gone from one spot, to tumors throughout and they are starting to affect liver function. So getting them to shrink is critical. If the chemo doesn't work or Mike can't handle it, his liver will fail.

The news was a bit much to take. We have a couple options to consider. Mike went ahead and went to chemo today, just getting one drug. We'll have to decide in a couple days if we want to add back the drug he had last year -- the one that had much success in shrinking the tumors, but ended up making him sick enough in January to spend 18 days in the hospital.

The decisions will be made with the knowledge that Mike hasn't really been able to handle chemo this year. Each time he's had a cycle, he ended up in the hospital.

I can't tell you how Mike is feeling because right after chemo he went to work. But I will tell you that I feel like I am trying to breathe with a concrete block laying on my chest. Every inhale hurts. But I'm trying to picture in my mind what needs to happen. Mike needs to be strong enough to handle the chemo. Dr. Neel said he had to push through to get some in his system. And the chemo has to shrink the tumors. Has. to.

What's new?

Here's what we've been up to the past few days:

My mom and I took Julia to the zoo. She got to feed a giraffe. I was nearly pecked to death by a bird.



We went to the beach for our first chance to try out this season's hot new swimwear. I heart Target.



We had our favorite lunch: The lobster roll (with real Maine lobster, not this Florida crap...) at Suntree Cafe in Satellite Beach. YUM!



We also got the results of Mike's scans -- the cancer has shown some progression, which we expected because it's been quite a while since he's had any kind of treatment. He also got a shiny new port put in so he can start back on chemo next week. We're saying prayers and keeping fingers and toes crossed that he can handle the drugs so they can do their thing and shrink these stupid tumors.

Mother's Day

Despite the crying, the yelling, the time-outs, the snot, the refusal to wear pants, the refusal to eat vegetables, the smudges on the glass, the messy room, the constant "No's" and the drawing on the furniture....

I love every second of this.


Happy Mother's Day, to all you mommies out there.