Cancer, One. Chemo, Zero.

We’ve surpassed the two month mark since Hubby received The News. I shared our reaction in an earlier post. We have now settled into the new normal of appointments, dates with chemo infusion; the sad, occasional sequestration from snotty nosed grandkids; incessant hand sanitizing to ward off the winter cold/flu season; and good week/bad week scheduling of formerly routine activities.

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Last week was a reminder of the insidiousness and cruel uncertainty of a cancer battle. The call we had been anticipating from Hubby’s oncologist came late in the afternoon. After four rounds of chemo infusion, he dropped the bombshell. Hubby’s CT scan had delivered the heartbreaking news that his tumor had not responded to treatment. Talk about a punch to the gut. We had lived in our hope bubble, yet cancer was winning. NOOOOO!! This wasn’t going to be the tear-less day I had promised myself. Instead we shared a long, muted hug. Called the kids. Felt the weight of failure at killing the beast. Paula-anna reminded Hubby there were still options. A different chemo regimen. Possible clinical trials. “They didn’t tell us there’s nothing more they can do.” I tried to find a ray of positivity, but we felt the heaviness of the news – a cruel blow that left us numb once again.

The next morning brought with it grey skies and the first measureable rain in a long dry SoCal winter. As much as staying in bed on a cold cloudy day might have seemed appropriate, Hubby was up and out of the house by six, headed to court and a client whose case trumped his personal battle. I was up too, making calls to MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, where Hubby’s doctor hoped he might qualify for a clinical trial for his rare cancer. All the wheels were turning and by afternoon we thought we had a plan. Houston, we have a problem – and hope you have a solution. But wait, there’s more…

USC Norris Cancer Center

Twenty four hours after the bad news had dropped, an unexpected email arrived from Hubby’s oncologist. This time it took us to the top of Mount Hope! There were two new clinical trials for specific treatment of the rare genetic mutation that had likely triggered Hubby’s cancer. And both were just 50 miles away, at USC Norris Cancer Center in Los Angeles, where we had already met with their gastrointestinal oncology team. To quote Hubby’s UCLA oncologist, “This is great news!!!” Hope was alive. Spirits soared. Was this the miracle we had been praying for? We enjoyed a weekend in hope-topia, and awaited our Monday morning appointment at USC.

Today was that day. Hubby’s USC doctor methodically articulated the three options before us. The safest was a second, standard course of chemo that has been successful (for some) in stabilizing his form of cancer, inhibiting its growth. One of the clinical trials he was “invited” to would be a blind study, meaning he would possibly receive a placebo instead of actual treatment. Last was a dosing study of an untested drug, to see how much he could tolerate before side effects became too severe. We were handed two packets of detailed descriptions of both trials and the required consent forms. Our heads were spinning! Finally, we asked the doctor, “If he was your family member, what choice would you want him to make?” Without hesitation, she said the standard chemo course would be her recommendation – for now. So that was it. Hubby’s USC and UCLA doctors are in agreement (cross-town college rivalry aside!) and chemo will resume – with new drugs – tomorrow morning. Fight On! Eight Clap! Clinical trials are still an option if this regimen doesn’t produce results.

As we waited for the car, I hugged Hubby and tried to read his thoughts hidden behind the faraway gaze. “I love you,” I said for the millionth time in two months. His eyes welled up and voice cracked as he echoed his love back to me. “The hardest part about all this”, he said, “is knowing what I am putting you and the kids through.” We held our embrace, oblivious to everyone, digging deep to keep hope alive, and finding strength in our unwavering commitment to each other.  

Hubby and I with Charlie our goofy Golden, choosing HOPE!

Hubby took a fall in Round One, but he’s back on his feet. The battle continues, and my cancer warrior is armed and ready. He is still #kahunastrong.