This is the First Day...

...of the rest of your life.

I know you have heard that saying before. I think the phrase was made quite popular years ago in a cereal commercial - maybe Total cereal?

(Picture: Ed resting in bed with cat Longlegs resting on top of him!)

Ed had an MRI of his brain on Monday, January 18, 2010. My office was closed for Martin Luther King Day, and I was able to help my brother get Ed to the Physician's Imaging Center in Athens, Georgia. He is now unable to walk and unable to stand unassisted and unsupported. The imaging center was unequipped to handle someone as disabled as he is, so me and my brother had to put him onto the MRI table and assist the technician in getting him situated to be able to have the test done. She told us that he would initially be inside the machine for 20 minutes, she would then bring him out of the machine to start an IV to inject dye, and he would go back into the machine for another five minutes. I determined he would be in there about a half hour. After 40 minutes I was beginning to get nervous. But she came to get us soon after that.

Of course, you do not get any type of results at the time of the MRI. Even if the technician does see something, or knows something, they are not allowed to discuss the readings in any form or fashion.

With today's technology, we are able to get these results so much sooner than ever before. The next afternoon me and my brother again loaded Ed into the car to head to see Dr. Splichal, Ed's oncologist, to get the results of the MRI. I think I prayed all the way to his office, as I'd been praying all the days before. Please God, let Ed get good news.

Ed had already decided to take his break from chemo, two chemo treatments earlier than planned, due to the overwhelming toll the drugs were taking on his body. He has become so weakened by the chemo, that his right side is almost totally useless. He cannot lift his right arm some days, and the hand does not cooperate either. If you place your hand in his right hand, he can squeeze your hand, and quite hard. But it is not helpful in such tasks as holding on to anything to lend support or in feeding, bathing, etc. His speech has worsened to the point that there are few words he can say that can be understood. Thank God, his left hand is still functioning.

We did not have to wait long to see Dr. Splichal. He came in and greeted us as usual. And then he just said it. The tumor has grown.

He explained that the tumor had grown enough to once again push the mid-line of the brain a half inch off center. He said that Edward had outlived his expectations for him, that they never believed he would live beyond six months after the surgery to remove the tumor. He stated that additional chemo would only worsen Ed's weakness and he felt like it would not help him anyways. He then told us that due to the aggressiveness of Ed's tumor and the size of it now, and the deteriation of his body, that he expected Ed to succumb to the brain cancer/tumor anytime between two weeks and two months. He said to stop giving him coumidin, that he was in more danger of bleeding to death than of a blood clot. He also said to up his steroids from 1 mg a day to 16 mg a day to reduce swelling in the brain.

I know me and my brother were momentarily stunned, and sat in silence. Then my brother asked him something, and Dr. S repeated his prediction. Then he told Ed he had fought hard and good and shook his hand. Ed was smiling up at him. Then Dr S shook my brothers hand and I hugged Dr S and thanked him for trying so hard to help Ed.

Before he walked out of the examining room, Dr. S told us there would be no follow up visits, but of course to feel free to make an appointment if we needed to come back to him. That seemed so final.

We held it together until we got in the car. Then I had to bury my head in the back seat to try to cover up my sobs. My brother put on his sun glasses to try to hide the tears coming down his face. I don't know if Ed knew we were crying. He was quiet all the way home.

Once home, we got Ed out and took him inside, greeted by Mama who wanted to hear the 'good news'. But the news was not good and she did not take it well. Her crying and questions really brought it home and finally, Ed cried too. I am not even sure he was totally aware of what was going on until we got home and we were all crying.

As usual, Ed was trying to console us; trying to make us feel better and feel like it was all going to be okay.

So. How do you think you would feel if a doctor gave you an estimate of how much longer you were going to live, and it really wasn't that long? I don't know how I would feel. Do you think to yourself, 'Today is the first day of the rest of my life'?

Taking a Break

Edward was scheduled for chemo yesterday, Wednesday, January 13, 2010. However, he was so weak he decided to take his 'chemo-break' early. He was scheduled to have two more chemo treatments including this one, and then Dr. S was going to put him on a chemo break for awhile to allow his body to detox and build up strength again.

Unfortunately, Ed's body decided he needed that break sooner. He is so weak he is almost completely back to using the wheelchair for mobility, is sleeping a large part of the day, and can barely assist in getting himself in and out of bed, to the bathroom, etc.

Of course, like always, he goes back and forth in his degrees of weakness and abilities. Some days are better. Some days are worse.

My mother, his primary caregiver, who is 71 (72 later this month), is suffering from physical and mental exhaustion and depression. She's always been a physically strong person. I have seen her move furniture from one room of the house to another, but if you have never tried to move a person at dead weight, you cannot imagine how hard that is. My Granny weighed less than 90 lbs when she died, but I could barely move her from her wheelchair to the bed. Ed weighs 180-185 lbs.

Mama has barely left the house since Ed became ill. She stopped going to his doctor's appointments after the second visit because she doesn't understand medical jargon and when the doctor talked about hospice and dieing and such, she became very angry. I would rather she did not go to these visits. We have tried to coax her out of the house, tempting her with shopping trips, eating out, (which she has never liked or done very much), or even just to go out driving and looking around, but she won't leave the house.

She has kidney disease and had a stent put in an artery year before last, and I feel she doesn't go to the doctor like she should or take care of herself like she should, but she is not a child and I cannot force her to do things, especially leave the house. The only break she gets from Ed and caring for him is when some of us take him to the doctor for chemo or tests, or the once a month trip he takes to the bank with my uncle Mert. Everyone needs a break from care giving, no matter how much you love that person or how dedicated you are.

But back to Ed. His speech is down from 100% at the time of tumor discovery to about 5% usage. He can answer yes or no and sometimes you can make out a few other words. He is beginning to more and more confuse words. Sometimes he points to an object but that is not what he wants or is talking about at all. Sometimes he uses the wrong words for things. He sleeps a very large part of the day. His right arm (controlled by the left side of the brain, where the tumor is located) loses more and more use.

The doctor, Ed, and all of us, are hoping taking a break from chemo will allow his body time to detox, heal and grow stronger. He will be having an MRI of his brain on Monday, January 18, at Athens Regional Hospital. We will visit Dr Splichal the following day to get results. I ask for your prayers, that the tumor will be smaller than it was two-three months ago, when, if you recall, it had grown ever so slightly from the previous time.

My daughter sent me a devotional regarding the big 'C', cancer. The devotional says though we hate the cancer, we are scared of it, we don't understand it, and don't understand why God lets us suffer from cancer, we have to try to remember that all things are for the Glory of God. Though we don't like it, we hate it, it makes us sad, we are afraid of it...it too, has it's purpose. Here is an excerpt from that devotional:

'We go through suffering for reasons bigger than we can ever understand. We go through suffering so that ultimately God will receive the Glory'.

It is hard to understand, but we just have to keep the faith. In the meantime, please pray for Ed to have a good break from chemo, a healing and strengthening time. Please pray for my mama that she will seek help from friends, family, doctors and God. Thanks to everyone!

Happy New Year! (2010)

Happy New Year Blog Readers!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful and happy day and is looking forward to much love, joy, good health and wealth in 2010! It sounds good doesn't it???

This year is Ed's second year as a brain tumor patient/survivor. He has survived one year and a month and half since the discovery of his GBM (glioblastoma multiforme brain tumor). His doctors predicted he would live about six months. He has doubled that time and working on more!

We hope this year will bring him an improvement in his quality of life. Yes, his life has been extended through and by the miracles of modern science and medicine, but he is weak, unable to speak, and pretty much dependent on others for a lot of his day to day life experiences.

Praise God, he is still able to get himself to the bathroom (be it ever so slowly!), wash himself, dress himself, feed and himself.

But he has fallen a couple of times, he falls asleep easily, he has great difficulty in expressing himself as most of his speech is completely gone. But it is evident he still has his mental capacities otherwise.

He still gives me directions to get places (by pointing), enjoys t.v., reads his Bible, and tries his best to participate in conversations, even if it is only with yes, no's, nods and hand gestures. He loves to watch westerns and don't think for a minute he can't still have an 'argument' with my Mom!

Our prayers for you, readers, is to have a Wonderful Life in 2010! Please pray we do too!