Just one week ago we were told that Tony would need to be on a chemotherapy regimen of Doxorubicin and Ifosfamide. We knew what this meant– that he would have to be admitted to the hospital for 5 days every time he got his chemo. Every three weeks. It’s unbelievable how much our life has changed in the past week.
On Monday when we arrived, one of Tony’s doctors told us he thought this admission would be boring. He anticipated Tony to get his chemo with no major events this week. This was very encouraging–I’ll take boring. So far it’s been true. Tony’s done well physically. We just can’t overlook the fact that this is boring. Incredibly boring. The unit here is nice, the staff is great, and I’ve been able to “move in” and spend the nights here. Those things help, but don’t relieve the feeling of being confined to this room/floor. Tony is still constantly attached to an IV pole. There have been small things that have helped with the cooped-up-ness…like when they brought Tony an exercise bike, he promptly taped extra towels to the seat and tried it out. However, more than anything else, we have been blessed by a parade of visitors (and an influx of emails, prayers and cards). We cannot say how much it has meant to us to have so many people come to just sit and talk.
We’re still new at this. It’s taking awhile to learn this new way of life. We’re learning what Tony can and cannot do because of his central line. What he should stay away from. What he needs to do for his body. Why his body is reacting this way. It’s exhausting to learn, and still surreal. Daily, we find ourselves saying, “Can you believe this is our lives? Can you believe this is happening?” I don’t know if this reality will ever set in.