Tentative smiles, that is, among the patients. The staff smiles until you wonder if their faces will crack open and their mouths fill with blood. We primary care-givers also smile tentatively, keying on our patients.
I’m a primary care-giver now that Mrs. Charm has been diagnosed with Stage III Diffuse Large B Cell Lymphoma, DLBCL. Tentatively. Still awaiting results of this morning’s bone-marrow biopsy and this week’s PET scan to make sure it isn’t some other type of lymphoma. The lymphoma part is definite.
Infusion port to be installed in her upper chest soon for the chemo to begin (tentatively) week of Oct. 6. Drill thereafter is one six-hour day of infusion of R-CHOP (unlovely acronym) followed by three weeks of recovery.
Then another six hours of toxic infusions and so on for (ideally) about six months. Otherwise Mrs. C will not be among the 55-70 percent for whom R-CHOP works (for at least two years, hopefully longer) and then it will be on to the radiation and, probably even more tentative smiles as the burning further diminishes her health.
There’s little joy in Mudville, i.e. Rancho Roly Poly, these days. Mr. Boy (a new high school freshman) and I are hanging (appropriate word) in there. Tentatively.
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 