Some Good News

Well, I was very blessed to have Ken home for a week.  And even though he's been back for a week now and I already miss him like crazy, it was so good to have him home.

This was his 'last hurrah' visit... his last chance to come home before his bone marrow transplant.  We were very, very lucky - not only did they find a decent match, they found two, one of which is undergoing the donation procedure as I type.  And, not only was it a decent match, it was a 10/10 match.  It truly does not get much better than that.

Through all this stress and heartache, we have been truly blessed - I've still been able to 'see' my husband on a daily basis (via Skype), and when he's come home, it's been due to the overwhelming generosity of HopeAir, who has flown him on several occasions now.  In addition, Ken has received grants from the Canadian Cancer Society to help with funding his accommodations and drugs.  As Canadians, we are so fortunate that Ken's chemotherapy and the drugs he receives while hospitalized are covered by our Provincial Healthcare and the BC Cancer Agency.  But... once he is discharged into 'day care', the financial burden of anti-nausea medications, antibiotics, antivirals, and antifungals, becomes his to bear.  And soon, should this transplant be successful, we'll be looking at the life-long requirement of anti-rejection drugs.

But that's getting ahead of myself.

The first go-round with Cancer last year exhausted us financially.  This go-round was unexpected, to say the least, and our resources are now tapped out.  As much as I hate to put my hand out, I've also been told repeatedly, "If you need help, ask for it."

And so I am.

I've set up a 'donation' page courtesy of YouCaring.com - you can find Ken's story here.  I know not everyone is able to donate - and that's ok!  I'm certainly not in the position right now!  But even sharing the link helps so very much!

To break it down, Ken needs about $1500/month for the next 4 months to finish his treatment.  Part of that time will require me to leave work to care for him, which will also increase our financial burden.

For Ken to stay in Vancouver, it costs him $45/day.  This does include his meals.  Honestly, this is a fantastic deal - where the heck are you going to get a (shared) hotel room in a good neighborhood in Vancouver at those rates?  But... multiply that by 31 days in a month... well, you see what I'm getting at.

With any luck, 6 months from now, this will all be just a memory.  And I'll be able to look forward to spending the next 50 years with my husband doing the things all families want to do - watching our children graduate from school, attend weddings, become grandparents...

The future can be so bright.

Hope

I have to have hope.

The last three weeks have been difficult for all of us.  I was very fortunate to be able to see Ken with our sons two weekends ago.  He is doing his best to be strong, but it is very, very difficult.

I'm still reeling from the return of his lymphoma.

With an intense course of chemotherapy (which still hasn't been completed), the cancer cells in Ken's bone marrow have been driven down to an undetectable level.  I won't say there aren't there, because I'm sure there are some, but there just isn't enough to be detected.

The chemotherapy drugs have caused Ken's hair to fall out again... and I don't care.  It's a small price to pay.  He's trying to make the best of it, he asked, "Is it ok if I give myself a mohawk?" before it had fallen out completely, and of course it was.

I'm going to share a link; it expresses far better than I can the realities of this disease.  Every time a read bits and pieces, it's with tears in my eyes.

Fight To Win

We're currently waiting to find a matching bone marrow donor.  Ken will continue with his chemo until then.  I am hoping and praying they can find a 10/10 match - that's his best shot at surviving this.  Please, if you can, visit: OneMatch and read through the information provided.  If you are willing to be listed on the donor database, I'd be very thankful.  I've listed myself (it's really easy to get tested - just a cheek swab), and I know that although I won't match Ken, there's a chance I could save someone else's life...

Not-So-Happy Endings

You know how sometimes you get to read one of those awesome stories how an individual develops Cancer, then goes through treatment, fights hard, and comes back Cancer-Free?

Unfortunately, that is not our story.

Ken is back in Vancouver after blood tests revealed possible issues... possible issues that turned out to be a relapse of Lymphoma, just 12 weeks after finishing treatment.

He is positive, and keeping good spirits.  He is so strong, and I'm so proud of him.  We're both scared.

The Cancer did not come back like it was the first time - there is no primary tumor, and it has spread into his bone marrow.  He needs high doses of chemotherapy to attempt to drive it into remission, then he's going to have to have his bone marrow effectively destroyed, and then have a transplant to replace it with healthy, non-cancerous marrow.  When we get to that point, we will be scouring high and low for as close a DNA match as possible (usually siblings are a person's best bet, but Ken is an only child).

Your positive thoughts and prayers are greatly appreciated.  It's going to be another long haul, but I'm hoping that in 8 or 9 months, Ken can announce that he is Cancer-Free, and ready to take on the world.

Life goes on...

There have been a few changes as of late.  Ken had his spinal chemo last week, and was violently ill a few days after coming home.  To be expected, I guess, but still not much fun.

The worse, most shocking part for me, was the fact that with this chemo, his eyebrows fell out.  I knew it was bound to happen, but I still wasn't prepared for the shock of it.  It just makes him look that much sicker.  I mean, I know he's sick, but it makes it all that more apparent.

The good news is that his CT scan came back basically clear.  He'll have one done every 6 months for the next few years, just to be on the safe side.

He's scheduled to go back to Vancouver once more this month for treatment, then again in January.  I'm hoping he's well enough; I just want to get this over and done with.  Unfortunately, he's currently waiting to see a doctor as he's picked up a respiratory virus and is coughing up awful stuff - he'll pull through this, he's already proven how strong he really is.

HE'S HOME!!!

This is late, and for this I appologise.  Ken was flown home by Hope Air on Monday.

I am so happy to have him home.

He's not completely done - he still has three chemo injections to be given into his spine (a few weeks apart), but it's so wonderful that he's here.

He made it in time for our youngest son's first birthday.  And that meant the world to both of us.

Live is so, so good right now.  We're just waiting for the results from his CTscan to confirm that the Cancer is gone.

I know it is.

Happy Birthday, Honey

Today is Ken's birthday.  Another older, wiser and stronger.

He had his 'third from the end' spinal chemo shot today and was kicked back out to outpatient care.  With any luck, he'll get one more at the end of this week, and his last one at the beginning of next week.

Here's to hoping.

Today he told me that his hair is starting to come back in - white.  As if that makes any difference to me... he can have it blue or purple or red, I just want him back home.

My husband is amazing.  And strong.  I am the luckiest woman in the world to have him.

Not too much longer.  Then we just have to play the waiting game to get the 'all clear'... make sure that the Cancer is completely gone.

I'm so emotional; excited that the end is within sight, scared that the outcome won't be perfect, relieved to know my soulmate is coming back to me.

Life is hard, but it is good.

The light at the end of the tunnel...

It's so close I can almost see it.

Almost taste it.

Ken finished his consolidation chemo today.  He has three more shots of chemo into his spine, which need to be spaced several days (to possibly a week) apart.

He is in rough shape.  Consolidation chemo is the highest, strongest dose that they give.  It's the 'last hurrah', designed to make sure not one. little. cancerous. cell. is left behind.

Here's to hoping.

I have a confession to make.  And it makes me feel like an absolute ass, because Ken is all alone, and fighting this disease so hard.

I'm lonely.  And overwhelmed.  And depressed.

I've reached my limit, reduced to tears several times over the past week.  I don't know how much more of this I can take.

The babies are sick.  Again.

I love being a Mom.  But I HATE being a single Mom.  Hate it.

I feel like a failure because I'm having such a difficult time.  I should be stronger than this.  After all, Ken is the one who is struggling, suffering through brutal treatments that cause him so much pain and make him so sick.  He hasn't seen his family in over 2 months.

And here I am feeling sorry for myself.

I just want my husband home.  But I want him home cured.