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Mrs. Desk Cancer Update.

A Three Vehicle Day...

©02 The Media Desk

      That's how the Desk has been thinking about days like this. Three vehicles. On a normal day the Desk drives one all day, the van full of stuff, back and forth to work. On odd days, it'll drive two, the van to work, and the Jeep to taxi the girls around. On days like this, it also ends up driving Mrs. Desk's car taking her to and from tests and doctors.
      Today was a three vehicle day.
      And the last trip of the day to the doctor was the worst. Early this morning we were dealing with incompetence and endless paperwork shuffling at Bayhealth Kent General Hospital for a CT Scan. First the authorization for the test hadn't materialized at the hospital, last week similar paperwork for bloodwork hadn't gotten through channels. Then they were nearly an hour late even calling for her to prep, then the tech was at a loss trying to access her port so she had to go to the chemo unit for that and come back. In the mean time the tech called another patient.
      Patience is a virtue, but the Desk's virtue has long since expired.

"No guns, no knives, no killings."
      Wyatt Earp to Doc Holiday Gunfight at OK Corral
      Later there was the endless tolerance tests for nuepogen(sp?), a bone marrow boosting drug Mrs. Desk had a reaction to at Johns Hopkins a couple of years ago. The Allergist pronounced her reaction to the final test insignificant and said he'd call the oncologist with the results.
      In between doctor's appointments there was some good news however. One, Mrs. Desk's Social Security Disability has been approved. She should begin receiving checks once we kill about half of a national forest filling out the last bit of repetitious paperwork. Two, the Shelter is going broke paying the Desk overtime, they need to cut back it's hours to somewhere under full time (the Desk has been averaging around fifty hours a week at its Part Time Job)... BUT, don't forget you're working with the Smyrna Baptists this weekend as they are doing a service project at the Shelter.
      Gotta love it.

Now comes part two.

... The Day Hope Died

      Sometimes it takes some time for news to sink in. You hear something, like an airplane has been flown into a building, and even as you are watching it live on TV it just doesn't register as real for several minutes, or even a few hours/days. Or you are laying on a table and some doctor you've never seen before is saying there is something wrong with your heart, but he's never seen anything like it before. Or some politician wanna-be sits there with a phony smile and says your job is being moved to another department which has already been penciled in for elimination, but you won't be laid off.
      And then there are times when the news hits and you know it's true and there isn't a damned thing you can do about it.
      "Diffuse hepatic metastases."
      "There are small low attenuation lesions in all segments of the liver, compatible with diffuse metastatic disease."
      "There is a small amount of free fluid within the pelvis. There is very minimal to mild soft tissue infiltration within the mesentery (intestines). Although this may be related to fluid, the possibility of early mesenteric spread of disease should also be considered."
      The cancer was no longer confined to her bones. It had spread.
      Metastasis in the bones, where this has been for the last year or so, is not life threatening. People have lived for twenty years with it and done just fine.

      So far nothing... NOTHING has stopped, or even slowed, this cancer.
Nothing. Untold doses of radiation, prayers by church elders, five different full courses of chemo, carrot juice, hormones, bone building drugs, herbal tea, high dose chemotherapy, Wiccan white energy... Nothing.
      It had been spreading. It is spreading.

      Since disease in the liver/lungs/brain is life threatening, the level of treatment escalates exponentially. Side Effects are a secondary concern, they don't worry as much about secondary infections, the cancer has to be hit with the best they got as hard as it can be. Something the Desk cannot spell or pronounce is supposed to be the class of the field of 'salvage' drugs [See NOTE: Below]. Not Cure or Remission now... not even Maintenance he is using the word Salvage
      The Cancer Doctor started talking about a thirty percent response rate in this type of cancer to this type of drug.

      Thirty percent.

      The Desk sets odds on sports and elections. Thirty Percent wouldn't even cause the Desk to break out its wallet on any given contest. It wouldn't bet a cup of truckstop coffee on something with a thirty percent chance of winning.

      Given this cancer's history, and her tolerance of the chemos so far this time around... ... ... ... nevermind the odds. To White Man's Hell with the percentages.

      The Desk doesn't like the odds, one out of three, thirty percent, it doesn't like them at all. Especially trying to hit that winning field goal against the wind.
      But it is betting the house on them.
      Literally.

      On our way out of the office she picked up the forms for a Living Will.

           She knows.

                 The Desk Knows.

      Although it hasn't been said. it has.

"Trust in God. But row away from the rocks."

            Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
NOTE: The Drug is Navelbine® from Glaxo Wellcome.
Link: Info at About.com
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