I've been pretty faithful about updating my blog for the last 14-ish years. I enjoy having a recorded history of each stage in my family's life. I need a place to safely store everything I might otherwise forget. I record a lot of the good and even some of the bad, as I strive to be honest.
Early March of this year I was starting to feel hopeful. My kids' schools began to hold some classes in person, I was able to sub a couple days a week, and Michael and I received our first COVID-19 vaccination. After a year of masks, cancellations, and changes we were ready for things to be a little simpler. I had hope.
Right around this same time my sister, Heidi, went to the doctor with gallbladder pain. A week after that we were at the gynecologic oncologist to learn it was not gallbladder pain. She had stage four ovarian cancer that had metastasized to her lungs and liver. She was scheduled for a complete hysterectomy on April 1, with chemo to follow. Her doctor made it very clear her chances of a cure were very low, and we were looking at a terminal disease. Heidi and I just sat there in shock. No tears, screaming, or raging. Just quiet, quiet shock. It was as if a cold spoon had just scooped out all my internal organs and left me standing there, completely bereft.
It was an ugly day, but only the first in a lot of ugly days. Heidi had her surgery on April 1, and then was given a few weeks to recover before starting chemo. Before she was even able to receive her first chemo treatment she was admitted to the hospital, due to malnutrition and possibly liver failure. She spent an entire, miserable month in the hospital, getting weaker and sicker. Our siblings and parents took turns sitting with her for entire days, as she could only have one visitor a day due to COVID protocol. So we would stay from early morning until nine in the evening, making sure someone was always there. Despite all the tests and attempted solutions, she continued to struggle with nutrition. It was a hard, sad month. She was able to start chemo, though, so not all was lost. After exactly a month in the hospital, she finally decided she had had enough. She told the on-duty doctor she was going home. She was done with the hospital. She couldn't stay another day. The on-duty doctor released her but also cautioned most cancer patients die of malnutrition and she probably only had weeks left. That particular doctor's name has become a curse word among several family members.
That Wednesday, Heidi was able to leave the hospital and move into Becca's house. The first week she was "home" was the scariest week of my life. She was so weak from the hospital, it was difficult for her to make it to the bathroom, never mind in a timely fashion. She spiked a fever almost every evening with no discernable cause. She was eating slightly more than at the hospital, but still not enough to keep a squirrel alive. She needed help with every single self-care task. Two nights after coming home she asked us to shave off her remaining hair, as she didn't want to die with her hair looking patchy. My niece shaved her head and we put her to bed. Then my niece shaved most everyone else's head. It seemed like the only reasonable course of action.
On Saturday we built her a fairy garden, which she has always wanted, with flowers and décor donated by loving family and friends. Heidi was too weak to go out to the garden but loved seeing it through her bedroom window. That night her fever climbed really high but she refused to go to the hospital. I wondered if we had built a garden for her to enjoy for one evening. I didn't regret for a single instant the work or expense. We called Michael and my brothers to give her a blessing, and everyone showed up at ten o'clock at night. I watched people I love put aside big hurts and issues, so they could be there in Heidi's time of crisis. It was the most personal, sweetest moment I have ever been a part of. Soon after the blessing, we gave Heidi some more Advil, and tucked her into bed. The guys went home and I spent another night on my sister's couch. Heidi woke up sick and weak in the morning, but cool to the touch and able to eat half a piece of toast.
It has now been three and half weeks since Heidi has come home. She is 2/3 the way through her first chemo treatment and is getting slowly stronger. Last week she was able to walk half a block with her walker. Being so weak frustrates her, but she has progressed so much since she has been home. And she is so much happier. Eating enough food is still an issue, but yesterday she ate 1900 calories!! Not every day is like that, but every day shows a little more improvement.
I don't know what the future holds. She still has another chemo treatment after this cycle, so she won't be done until mid August. While the chemo is shrinking the tumors that make her weak, the chemo itself is making her weak. It's a horror show of catch-22. Right now I have a little hope, though. She is getting stronger. We have evidence the chemo is working. While a cure is unlikely, it is remotely possible. Even without a cure, the chemo is giving her more time, and as she keeps progressing it looks like she will be able to enjoy that time. In the meantime, we will keep trucking along. Becca will keep giving Heidi all her countless meds and feeding her high-fat, high-protein meals. I will keep taking Heidi to multiple weekly doctor/chemo appointments. My kids will keep preparing family dinners and running errands. Michael will keep working and picking up the slack around the house. We will all keep going. Prayers for all of us to have strength are greatly appreciated.
So that is my excused absence from blogging. It's hard to write about the day to day of family life, when my day to day now revolves around my sister. Cancer does not make for fun blog posts. I plan on playing a little catch up, but I imagine posts are going to be a little sparse for awhile.
