My pseudo daughter-in-law posted on Face Book last night that my son is done with the awful side effects of the poison, lovingly referred to as chemotherapy. He will no longer take any chemo treatments. He has been sick with pneumonia and a gall bladder episode, so maybe not in the right frame of mind to make that decision, but they discussed it and decided together. He would rather have quality of life, instead of quantity. I was really surprised she (Cindy) posted it on Face Book.
For the past year, ever since I was finally told the news that he had prostate cancer, I was cautioned to not say a word about it. When Karen was over for a visit last Friday, she told me he was doing really well...as far as she knew. Apparently not.
When I read her post, I got that funny, little, cold, wiggly thing you get in the middle of your stomach and my heart took an extra beat. After all, he is my first born, my only son, and I still "see" him as a little boy and how cute he was and how capable at everything he tried.
Well, memories like that, scenes like that are best not to linger on. I am Queen of De Nile on these kinds of things. I keep hope until the last breath is taken. He is still a very strong man and now, I am just praying that Mark will have some good weeks or months or however long there will be. Praying that any pain he has can and will be taken care of. I would hope that I would be brave enough to make the same decision he has made. To never start the poison, with the awful side effects, when we all know, it rarely does anything more than give the person a few more months of feeling ill all the time.
I canceled my dental appointment because, I just wasn't capable of sitting in that chair for an hour, listening to that high speed drill today. Going back in August.
Susan and check came down today and Chuck swapped out the hinges and handles on my fridge. What a big difference it makes. My microwave and counter are to the right of the fridge. The doors opened up on the left. When I took things out of the fridge, I had no place to set them down and, of course ALWAYS carrying more than I should, I'd usually drop something on the trip back around the fridge to the counter top.
Plus it had never been leveled correctly. Chuck did that too and now the doors close on their own, instead of staying open a teeny tiny bit.
I sure appreciate having a man around the house that can do or fix anything. Chuck is a retired electrical engineer. He thinks things out first, even reads the instructions and then he gets to the job. Slow and steady and when he is done, the job is done. No having to go back and do any part of it a second time.
Boy--if I could find one just like Chuck, a quiet Christian man, non-drinker, never says a swear word, loves to watch sports, kind to my sister--if I could find that? I'd reconsider my penchant for wanting to live alone. The problem is, they are a rare creature!