About this time last year, my mom, sister, dad and I sat in Dr. Patel's office to learn the news that my dad's prostate cancer had spread to his bones. The typical treatments for prostate cancer, with which he was first diagnosed in 2011, had failed, and now he needed something new.
Dad qualified for an experimental treatment (Xofigo) — radium, to be exact. The radium would be administered six times over a period of six months, directly into his bloodstream. It was designed to go directly to the cancer in his bones to stop its spread. Xofigo could not cure the cancer, but, like chemotherapy in this case, the radium could buy my dad more time.
He finished those treatments in September, feeling pretty darn good ... although a little bit tired. We all felt pretty optimistic. In December, bone scans showed the cancer had not spread within his bones. He was, however, anemic, and his PSA continued to rise. He started another treatment in the next line of defense: Xtandi. He did okay with it for awhile, but as you know if you've been following my blog, we discontinued it last week because he was having breathing problems.
Kim, Dad and I went to see Dr. Patel on Tuesday to discuss symptom management with him and instead were given the results of Dad's bone marrow biopsy, which he had less than a week prior to that appointment.
As suspected, the cancer is in his bone marrow.
This explains Dad's inability to produce hemoglobin, and thus, anemia. Blood transfusions also are no longer effective.
Dr. Patel said Dad could try chemo if he wanted. He said choosing it would not be a wrong answer, but not choosing it, at this stage of the disease, would not be a wrong answer, either. Chemo would, like for most people, make him quite sick, especially in his weakened state. The best chemo could do is buy Dad a couple of months.
As Dad described it, "a couple more months to be sick and throw up." No, thanks. Feeling weak and breathless is enough.
So ... here we are. When Dad asked Dr. Patel how long he had to live, Dr. Patel said, "Months."
The last several days have felt blurry, even though I expected this news. Dad is understandably quiet. Kim will stay in Amarillo for however long now. We will have Mom moved in to my house on Monday morning, where we will attempt to create as homey and comfortable an environment for my parents as possible.
When this journey with my mom's stroke first began, one of the questions I raised that absolutely bothered me most was, "Is this how the story is going to end?" I worried about my parents being apart physically and emotionally at the ends of their lives, after having spent 55 years together.
After months of waiting, watching, gathering information and allowing everyone in this journey to reach his and her own levels of acceptance, I now have part of the answer, and, it's "no."
No, they will not be apart. As far as this family can blindly make it happen, my parents get to be together at least a little while longer.
Many hugs. May God be with you and your parents at the end of their beautiful romance.
ReplyDeleteI love that, Cindy.
DeleteI'm sitting here at my desk reading this, and sobbing. I have to agree with your dad's decision, though. I hope that the people who know and care about him come now to see him before it's too late. I hope you are set up do this...A good idea to have is a sign-in book, like a guest register, to keep track of those who came and what, if anything, they brought. We did that for a family member under similar circumstances. God's blessings to you all.
ReplyDeleteGREAT idea! I will definitely do that. Thank you, Kim.
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