“I haven’t posted a blog in weeks,” I said as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“I don’t know what to say.” My words lingered in the air waiting for his reply. With a hint of resignation in his voice and as he pushed himself up from the table to stand, he agreed with another, “I know.”
“If I say what’s really going on, people will worry.”
“What should I share?” I asked because not everything gets told in this blog. We only ever share the basics. Reality would be too much, too bare, too human.
“I don’t know,” he admitted with a sigh.
“Me either,” I replied, giving in to this business of not knowing what to say and when. That’s why I haven’t blogged for a month because I didn’t want to lie but I didn’t want to tell the truth either.
Will the Hooks make it to Australia isn’t really the question anymore. Will Hook make it another year is probably more accurate.
That second question circles us constantly now. Certainly, it questions us tonight or I should say this morning/afternoon because that conversation above didn’t happen today but last week. That conversation happened because of the continuing weight loss followed by a continuing decline of hemoglobin in Hook’s system. That conversation happened after Hook’s unexpected blood transfusion two weeks ago followed by the really unexpected second transfusion yesterday or two days ago depending on how accurate you want to be because I started writing this at 10:30 at night in St. David’s emergency room. Then it was 4:30 in the morning when they wheeled Hook up to his hospital room but now it’s almost 1pm central standard time the next day or today, Saturday, April 13th 2013.
Before the second transfusion, we’d had a disagreement over whether Hook should continue with chemo treatments anymore.
“You won’t have to worry about dying from cancer because you’ll drop dead long before then from malnutrition. Something is WRONG and we need to find out what it is and we need to STOP these chemo treatments until we know what’s wrong.” My shrill voice rose to meet the hysteria that had been hiding behind all those lingering questions in my mind. Is he going to make it? Why is he declining? What are we not doing right?
But back to the emergency room which turned into an overnight hospital stay and my contact lenses that dried out over four hours ago are stuck to dry eyeballs and my brain’s not functioning so great so it’s hard for me to know if I’m making any sense.
- A blood clot has formed in Hook’s left leg and he’s been admitted so the clot can be thinned and dissolved with a non-invasive, minor procedure. We’d noticed some swelling last night and it was our good fortune that Hook’s oncologist was the on-call doctor. His oncologist, who only two days ago impressed upon Hook the necessity of calling him for even the slightest changes in his body, recommended the emergency room right away.
- Things look okay so far. Timing is everything. If we had waited until this morning to call, who knows what would have happened. Or, if it hadn’t been his oncologist’s on-call weekend and instead we’d gotten another doctor who didn’t know Hook’s history, we probably wouldn’t have been recommended to go to the emergency room. Timing is everything.
I could have begun this blog with the announcement that Hook was back in the hospital but I needed to ease you into it, because I don’t want you to worry and because timing is everything.
I’ll post again tomorrow with what I know.