Hope And Chemo

I'm typing this on my phone from my husband's bedside in the ICU. We've been here since Tuesday night. I've said it before, but it bears repeating, Stanford may have mahogany walls, but Kaiser nurses and doctors move mountains for my husband. 

To save my thumbs from cramping up (still typing this on my phone) I'll just say that he's doing a whole heap better than when we walked into oncology Monday afternoon. Hearts don't like to beat 140 times/minute for very long. Thankfully, the professionals at Kaiser know that. No mahogany around to cloud their judgement, I guess.

A lung tap, draining of pericardial fluid (heart sac), and his stats are looking more like a human. The next step, once he's stable (later today, we hope) is to tranfer him to a hospital that does inpatient chemo (YES, CHEMO!!!) and also has a bed for moi.

The chemo he'll be getting is called bendamustine. It's a longshot, but it's a shot. We'll take it. That's his ocologist's attitude, too.

Speaking of oncologists, I let Dr. W know what a douche Dr. Waffle Cone has been. I said, "You both give us the same information, but you don't tell us to give up, go home and die. Maybe it's because you know us, but it makes all the difference. Attitude is everything. Thank you."

He needed to know. They send a shitload of business to Doctor Waffle Cone. Fucking wet blanket. Who knows how many people he's convinced to give up.