A Case of the Mondays

 I was back in the office today. I love my office. My coworkers are like family, and sometimes it gives me peace to just be at my desk. 

After the pandemic, a baby, and the cancer diagnosis…my desk that I spent eighteen months away from, brings me peace. 

I had tears running down my face today, the silent kind. I got in to work, and booted my computer up. Attended my meetings one by one, but a text came through from Matt. His cat-scan report had been added to his patient portal. 

We are now planning a lung biopsy before the week is up. Then presumably Matt is looking at as many rounds of a different systemic chemotherapy and immunotherapy as he can tolerate to try and get back the progress we lost. 

I have been researching, whilst he’s been looking at clinical trial options. I’ll keep calling around. I asked all the hard questions today. We are devastated Y-90 is off the table. More devastated Matt will be on an even more intolerable chemotherapy for Christmas. As an advocate and a cheerleader it is my duty to find the positive and look for alternatives. However, realistically I trust our medical team. The nurses have our best interests at heart and so do the doctors. So I will keep questioning and researching. I will exhaust all the resources. But, simultaneously I will have to muster up a little more hope. 

We lost so much while Matt’s blood count was down. Now he will have to fight to make that up. He has to fight through the holidays; instead of focusing on enjoying them with his girls. And I have to spend them praying that this isn’t our last holiday season.