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I want this year to be over.
When Hub's grandfather got diagnosed with colon cancer, it was due to the blood panels the hospital ran after the poor man suffered one massive coronary failure. He had to be airlifted from one hospital to another and spend the next four days in ICU until he got cleared enough to go home.
The doctors were then going to take an 'up close' look (what is that procedure called anyway, where the little camera goes up the pipe?)a week later but GIL's heart was too weak and couldn't take the procedure. Further tests proved that even a change in diet and with pills, his heart just would not be able to take the chemo GIL needs to beat the goddamned cancer... especially since MRI's now showed that the fucking cancer had now spread from the colon to the gall blader, liver and lungs.
Despite all this, he seemed well enough and the man was given a prognosis of six months, provided he got a stint placed in to help with BMs. (Stint? Stinth? Whatever that shit is called).
He was to have the stint placed in today, a rather non invasive procedure that could have GIL back home by tonight. His heart could take that, no?
Well, true, it can but..
We called today to find an update now that we're out of work. GIL has a massive tumor that has his colon 90% so even with the stint (whatever it is) in place, there is absolutely NO WAY around invasive surgery..
Which, as we've been told, due to his heart condition he has a very slim chance of surviving anyway.
....
So, now, we don't know what's going to happen. Because he's not dead, we can't take time off of work to spend with our GIL without facing occurrences (or dings) to our attendance and right now, we don't have the record warranted to take the fucking dings anyway!
I feel trapped. Caged. No matter how much I pace, nothing is going to change. We're spending our days glued to the phone for updates and resigned to the fact that we're just SOL. Even if we *had* the time to get off (or, as I told Hubs, if he did. I don't mind staying at home if needs be) we don't have the money to warrant last minute fucking flights to the middle of goddamned nowhere New Fucking Mexico.
I also feel like if I cry I make things more stressful for the hubby. I'm running low on cigs and have no more beer. I don't want to go buy more anyway since its not the best of catharsis to begin with.
I just feel like screaming, really. So far, 2009 has been full of shit and I, for one, want it to be fucking over.
The doctors were then going to take an 'up close' look (what is that procedure called anyway, where the little camera goes up the pipe?)a week later but GIL's heart was too weak and couldn't take the procedure. Further tests proved that even a change in diet and with pills, his heart just would not be able to take the chemo GIL needs to beat the goddamned cancer... especially since MRI's now showed that the fucking cancer had now spread from the colon to the gall blader, liver and lungs.
Despite all this, he seemed well enough and the man was given a prognosis of six months, provided he got a stint placed in to help with BMs. (Stint? Stinth? Whatever that shit is called).
He was to have the stint placed in today, a rather non invasive procedure that could have GIL back home by tonight. His heart could take that, no?
Well, true, it can but..
We called today to find an update now that we're out of work. GIL has a massive tumor that has his colon 90% so even with the stint (whatever it is) in place, there is absolutely NO WAY around invasive surgery..
Which, as we've been told, due to his heart condition he has a very slim chance of surviving anyway.
....
So, now, we don't know what's going to happen. Because he's not dead, we can't take time off of work to spend with our GIL without facing occurrences (or dings) to our attendance and right now, we don't have the record warranted to take the fucking dings anyway!
I feel trapped. Caged. No matter how much I pace, nothing is going to change. We're spending our days glued to the phone for updates and resigned to the fact that we're just SOL. Even if we *had* the time to get off (or, as I told Hubs, if he did. I don't mind staying at home if needs be) we don't have the money to warrant last minute fucking flights to the middle of goddamned nowhere New Fucking Mexico.
I also feel like if I cry I make things more stressful for the hubby. I'm running low on cigs and have no more beer. I don't want to go buy more anyway since its not the best of catharsis to begin with.
I just feel like screaming, really. So far, 2009 has been full of shit and I, for one, want it to be fucking over.
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