One of my mentors at VCFA (the Vermont College of Fine Arts) once told me that, as a writer, you want to make your characters really earn their victory. It's not enough for them to have some roadblocks that are rather easily overcome, no, you want to force your characters up a tree and then, throw stones at them. Make things difficult, and then take it a step or two further. Make it really difficult.
Well, if I'm the hero of my own story here, then the writer is certainly following my mentor's advice. On Friday, as I lay on the bed, all prepped for surgery, Jess and I watched the thoracic surgeon come in to the room with a look on her face that instantly relayed what she was about to tell us: she'd just read the scan results and it showed that the cancer was all throughout my esophagus and had spread both into the lymph nodes of my neck and a bit below the larger mass. In short, I was no longer a surgical candidate to remove the esophagus and the large mass. She was going to proceed then with the G-tube (in the stomach) instead of the J-tube (in the lower bowel) since right now the stomach did not need to be on standby for the original surgery.
Obviously, this was (and is) devastating news. But...she said that she is not giving up on me, or the surgery, and not saying never. If (when) the radiation and chemo treatments can destroy those outliers and melt things down enough for the surgery, then it can still happen. Or perhaps the treatments themselves will do the heavy lifting. This is not just wishful thinking. My parents have a neighbor in his 80s who just recently had stage IV, inoperable, esophageal cancer and beat it. He's out in his yard now (I don't know about right now, at this very moment. I'm not spying on the guy or anything) doing yard work and playing cards on weekends. And I have an uncle (by marriage, not blood, so there's no genetic explanation for how I got this cancer) who is in his 70s and also had inoperable esophageal cancer and he just beat it too! As the doctors say, I am "younger" (lol, love the semantics - the subtle difference between young and younger) and otherwise healthy, and so that is a great advantage to me as I go into treatments.
That is the next hurdle here, and one that is certainly going to be a test. Intense radiation treatments and chemotherapy is going to be tough. While everyone reacts differently to treatments, there are some things that are definitely going to happen: I'm going to be tired,
beaten down at times, and I'll be losing my hair - my luxurious, flowing, locks; my pirate curls; my Viking war mane...gone. But that is a small price to pay for getting through this.
As my nurse this weekend offered, take this one day at a time, and that's what we're doing. Today, we'll contact the oncologist and get our appointment with them so that we can see what the treatment plan is going to be and when it will start. Radiation should be calling this week. I have a follow up with the surgeon in two weeks. Jess is shouldering so much, coordinating everything, making arrangements, getting things, doing things, assisting me, taking care of house stuff and dogs, and trying to stay sane in the midst of this madness. It's a mental and emotional toll, for sure. I have to make sure I get these tube feedings done four times a day, plus extra water hydration through it. I'm still recovering from not a lot of sleep at the hospital (it's hard to sleep when every couple hours someone is in to take your blood, check your vitals, or fix the beeping machine because one of the IV bags is empty) and from surgery.
It's going to be a long and arduous journey, but it's a journey that we are on, whether we like it or not. I am grateful for all of your thoughts, love, and support, and I know that if we falter along the way, you'll all be there to help us up and urge us forward. Heroes cannot win the day alone...they need support too, and while I intend to be the hero of my own story, I know I'll need every bit of your support.
Thank you, friends.