No where to go but up

Sorry I haven't been posting much lately. Things have been a little hairy. Flat out: we are at an emotional and physical low. This is the lowest we've been since diagnosis. Jim is in excruciating pain. The pain in his stomach is really taking a toll on his quality of life. He's not moving around a whole lot. He told me that he can't ever move without it hurting anymore.

We're not sure what's causing the stomach pain, but we think it's the chemo. Reason being that the longer he has a break from chemo, the less stomach pain he has. Of course at this point, he won't be getting a break until the last week of August. There's a lot hinging on the last week of August - during that break week we visit Mayo and hopefully Sloan Kettering. Needless to say, that's a lot of travel, but doctor's offices won't do a scan the same week he receives chemo, and he's getting some form of treatment every single week until then.

Because he's in so much pain, Jim isn't doing well emotionally. We're doing the best we can, and as I said, his sister is coming to visit this weekend which I believe will help. I hurt seeing him like this. One of the nurses from The Vince called me on Monday to talk about Jim's emotional state - they recognized right away that he's sort of sliding downhill emotionally. He must figure out how to get back to a positive mental state - he absolutely needs it to return to whole health. Perhaps the most frustrating thing is that nothing new has happened to send him in a mental nosedive - except the pain. Right now, pain and chemo are in charge of his body. It's not the most romantic notion. We've got to get him back to a place where his fighting spirit is what dominates his mind and his body.

Also frustrating: we can't see what's going on inside his body. The cancer could be shrinking, it could be stable...or maybe it's not. Why is it that we let negative thoughts completely consume our minds when we're nervous? Why can't we let positive thoughts dominate? Why is it that our positive mental images seem weaker than the negative ones? After all, we have the ability to control our thoughts. Or at least we believe that we should be able to control our thoughts. As much as we want that next scan so that we can receive some positive news, we also dread the scan - what if it's not what we want to hear? What if the doctors in Madison were wrong? What if...what if...we turn it over in our minds every 3 seconds.

Jim's just sick of it all. We need some good news. Dr. Haid ordered another CEA level, but the last results were so disappointing that we can barely bear the stress of hearing the results. Although every doctor has told us not to hang our hats on the CEA level because it's so unreliable, the fact of the matter is that it's hard not to do that because it's a chartable number that we can follow. A number seems a little more black and white in an extremely gray illness, but we know in our hearts that even the CEA is just gray.

Here's what it boils down to: if this is truly our emotional low, then I figure it's got to get better from here. True, it could get worse, but emotionally it would be tough to beat where Jim is now. I am doing better than Jim, but let's face it, I don't have cancer. I don't care how much I hurt for him, I'm not struggling like he is. If one more person gets those sad eyes and looks at Jim and says "How are you?" I'm betting he'll knock their block off. He might be low, but he's got pride. People who fake intimacy really piss me off.

I keep trying to remind myself, and Jim, that it's just for now...it's not forever. He won't be going through this forever. Good health and a good life are Jim's to enjoy. It's a matter of time. I pray he gets them back soon. I sincerely miss the mischevious twinkle in his eye when he knows he's being funny.