This blog is, probably, mostly, for me.
It always has been.
But in the world of Social Media, I didn't know if it would really be necessary. To create a blog.
But writing has always been my outlet and to think that there are actually people who become informed through my writing is drawing me back to creating a new blog. And I didn't want to use our Family Blog, because this is Andy's journey...as narrated by me. How terrifying would that be...to have me narrate your life! Ha! So. Here we go. The blog I never thought I needed to create. Never wanted to create. And yet. Am creating.
So how did we get here - and where is here?
Here's the punch line: My husband has cancer. Multiple Myeloma. It's a form of blood / bone marrow cancer. It is treatable and manageable. It is not, currently, curable.
Andy has been feeling under the weather for a few months. Tired. Stiff. And Sore. It's hell getting old. With two VERY active kids. We are all tired. stiff. and sore. But Andy's wouldn't go away. He went to his doctor, he went to massage therapy. It wasn't getting better.
In fact, he started feeling worse. He got more tired and then started having trouble breathing. (Some day I'll tell the story about my reaction to him telling me he had been having trouble breathing...for a few days. Spoiler - I didn't react well). He went back to his primary - and this is the pivotal moment of our 'story'. His primary listened. He said - well, looking at you and listening to you, you are healthy as a horse. But let's run some labs just in case.
Another long story short (for another blog post another time) Andy's blood work showed he was critically anemic. We needed to head to the Menomonee Falls Froedtert Hospital for a blood transfusion. On the way the way to the hospital, as we tried to process a blood transfusion Andy said, "I thought I had walking pneumonia. I just wanted an inhaler."
We got checked into the ER and the questions started: Where is your blood going? Why are you so anemic? You must be losing blood somewhere! Andy's hemoglobin levels were at 5.1 - ours should be around 14.
They talked about giving him a colonoscopy. How was he losing all this blood? But first, he went in for a CT Scan to see if there was anything obvious internal - an ulcer - a polyp? They started his first blood transfusion.
A doctor came in. We had met her before. What was her name and what was her role?
She sat down.
Why is she sitting down?
She's talking.
What is she saying? Why is she looking at us like this? Wait. Why does Andy look like that? And why is my stomach in my feet?
Did she just say cancer?
"I'm sorry, what?" I interrupt her.
She repeats. There were no obvious signs of internal bleeding, but there were lesions on a few bones that are indicative of Multiple Myeloma, a form of blood cancer. The oncologist was finishing a few things up at his West Bend office and would be here within an hour to meet with us.
What are you thinking right now? Because if it's dark and dismal, that is what we were thinking too. I've said it a million times - everything was moving in slow motion, but like it was in fast forward too. Some how that hour passed and the oncologist came in. Likely to tell us blood cancer is terminal and we had months to live.
He stood at the foot of our bed. I held Andy's hand tightly. Damn it, why can't I understand what anyone is saying?
"Wait. What?" I interrupt him. Did he just say this is manageable? He looked at us. Yes. Yes. That is what he said. We will likely be on chemo for the rest of our lives, but God willing, it will be a very long life. We were told that Andy can't quit his job and he can't retire. He said we would have a bone marrow biopsy to confirm, but he was 99% sure. And then he left.
In the darkness, we saw a very teeny light. But we were overwhelmed. Exhausted. And numb.
It was late. I needed to get home to the kids. We decided to call Andy's mom and have her come up to the hospital. Worst call I've ever had to make. I somehow needed to convince my mother in law that her baby boy was OK, but needed her, while I was 100% convinced her baby boy was NOT OK.
And then I had to leave the hospital. I had to leave Andy. I had to leave Andy and go home to the kids. Alone. We agreed we wouldn't tell the kids until we knew a little more or at least we were together. So I told them the truth. I had to take dad to the hospital, he was having trouble breathing, he needed a blood transfusion, they didn't know what was wrong, but they were running more tests to find out exactly what they needed to do. We had lots of tears and lots of hugs. I went to bed that night numb to everything. Andy's pajama shirt, two dirty socks, and pajama shorts were on his side of the bed. I hugged his t-shirt close, sobbing, and then threw it. I refused to do this. He was going to come home from the hospital, and he was going to pick up his own dang t-shirt.
The next morning the kids ROCKED IT! They helped with breakfast, with school prep, and were kind in saying goodbye to each other. (Spoiler...this doesn't last...). Eleanor went off to school, I got Oliver off to school, and then I headed back up to the hospital.
And that's how we found out Andy has cancer.
Over the next few days I'll share what those first few days were like in the hospital, what our initial treatment plan is, and continue to keep you all posted on how we are doing (Spoiler...we are hanging in there and doing relatively well!).
Our first appointment with our oncologist - Dr. A - is tomorrow (Wednesday). We are eager for that appointment. We will get updated labs to see how Andy's body is retaining his new blood, and it will be the first time we really hear detailed treatment plans and hopefully, learn more about this disease called Multiple Myeloma.
Thanks for taking this journey with us. We know we are not alone and feel the comfort of our village holding us up.
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