Chemo Round Two...

Round two of chemo...and the last. That was the good news for the day. The bad? Poison is once again being put into Tim's body. That's enough to ruin anyone's day. But, Tim is a trooper....

Last time Tim had a cup full of pills to take. Today he had them crushed with a little water added so he could have it through his feeding tube. He liked that much better -- swallowing pills is no longer an option for him.

Cisplatin begins....

A few hours into chemo Jordan (who is a student at the University of Kentucky and lives in the dorm just across the street from where Tim gets his radiation and chemo) called and he was just outside the chemo suites (weird name,huh?) and wondered if he could come visit his dad. Tim was happy to see him. It meant a lot to him that Jordan would take the time to come. Jordan was in between classes so he stayed and visited for a while then headed off to classes. It was a bright spot in Tim's day.

After Jordan left Tim tried to rest. The times he was able to fall asleep it was only for a short time and his sleep was so restless. There wasn't a time that he slept when his eyebrows weren't furrowed in discomfort. I cried as I sat there with him. My heart aches that Tim has to endure all of this, that our kids have to see this, that the cancer is robbing us of our typical days.

Recently I wrote to my friend and said that I just wish that I could turn back the hands of time and have the worries that I thought were so major before. I would love a day that was cancer-free -- like we've never heard of it or ever experienced it. I would love to climb into bed at night without cancer on my mind, without wondering just how bad this is going to get for Tim, feeling so helpless that I can't do something more to relieve his suffering. I would love the heartache I feel to have never pierced me as it has. I wish that the fear that is in me was not a reality of every day of my life.

But, all the wishing and wanting will not take away what it is. THAT is the hardest thing for my mind to comprehend. I want to fix this, to change this, to be rid of this but nothing I can ever do will make it anything but what it is and that is what is so sad.

I love Tim so much and to be able to do so little for him feels like I, in some way, add to his pain, not take it away. For that is what I want to do -- I want to wave my magic wand and make it all go away.

Leaving after chemo in the funky mirrored elevator.

14 more radiation treatments to go......