Day One

Can't sleep. I've been awake for an hour, anticipating Mike's first chemo treatment for his second bout with esophageal cancer.

The protocol is three days of chemo – day one is eight hours, days two and three are three hours – three weeks apart, four times. He'll be getting much more toxic drugs this time than he had two years ago. Then, we were surprised at how few side effects he experienced. He was tired, but not crushing fatigue. He was only nauseous following one chemotherapy treatment. Radiation didn't bother him at all.

He's not a candidate for radiation this time, as the two tumor sites are too close together. They don't want to radiate an area that's been previously treated.

So chemotherapy it is, and it's stronger because it's a different type of cancer cell. More aggressive. More likely to spread. 

Adding another layer of stress to the situation was his accident Thursday evening. He's fine – one pretty bad laceration on his left arm was his only injury – but the truck is totaled and we're a one-car family. Hopefully we can find something for him soon, although I don't think he'll be driving anywhere on his own for a while. 

In daylight, next day.

At the scene, Thursday evening.

I haven't written about the accident yet. He was coming home from a church vestry meeting. He rounded a curve and ran into a large tree which had fallen across the road. We've had a lot of rain lately, and trees randomly fall all over the mountains here. Sometimes they only knock out power lines. This one did that and almost killed my husband.

The emergency responders all agreed he was lucky to be alive. Had he driven by a few seconds earlier, the tree would have fallen on him as he was driving. As it was, he could barely exit the vehicle. The roof of the cab was caved in, as well as the hood, and the windshield was shattered. 

It happened at about 9:30 pm. We didn't get home from the Emergency Room until 2 am. It's all still kind of surreal. 

This stress eater has been hanging on with WW tracking by a thread. But I'm drowning in emotions. And numbing myself with phone games and ice cream.

Monday is my reset day for points … my plan is to get Mike settled in the chemo chair with his books, mp3 player, and snacks, and then head to a nearby café for lunch and to work on re-typing my aunt's family history book. My best estimate for points for a fried green tomato sandwich would be 16. Perfectly doable with a zero-point breakfast and my planned dinner of chicken noodle soup and mixed melon salad.

Need to stay away from the ice cream tonight.