This Machine Killed Cancer

Lately days are daunting. Shayne and I still try to smile through them, but our road weariness shows. We aren’t fooling anyone anymore.

Shayne got out of the hospital on Sunday and has pretty much slept since. He tried to play music for a bit yesterday but came home looking more exhausted than I’ve seen him yet. He made it through dinner, but I don’t think he’s moved off the couch since (he’s even sleeping soundly beside me right now).

My weariness comes from worrying and worrying and worrying and rethinking and worrying.

This last round of chemo saw the first drop in his white blood cell count - a sign of his ever weakening immune system. Luckily, it’s it’s the last round of chemo for a few months. Huzzah! and hip! hip! hooray! for saying goodbye to spending every other week in the hospital. We’re going to miss Shayne’s nurses, but it sure is nice to be home.

We’re still trying to make some big decisions (radiation or no radiation? clinical trials or protocol?) and are buying ourselves some time by flying to San Francisco next week to get a second opinion from a doctor at UCSF. Next Wednesday cross your fingers, knock wood, or do whatever it is you do. We need a little bit of lady luck on our side.

The wonderful thing is that San Francisco also happens to be full of folks we adore and miss dearly - Shayne extended family (his aunts + cousins) and mine (the Kemps). We are so very excited to see them that it almost over shadows the whole reason we’re going out there.

We probably won’t write much for the next week or so, but hopefully the next time we write, the monsters will seem less scary and we’ll have more answers than questions.

As always thank you for all of your notes and voicemails and dinners and visits. We couldn’t get through any of this without you.