kvetching up

 Entry 1    1:42 p.m. If it's on your list today, you may not find it at Fred Meyer. I am shopping with Abby. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Thankfully, Abby keeps me on task as I stumble through my ADHD and grief riven world.  This place looks like the Huns descended on it, which is funny given the emptiness of the road. Stuff is everywhere, shelves bare, lines ridiculous.  It will take an hour for us to check out, we've been in line 20 minutes, I swear, and have moved an inch or two. So, employee shortage as well. Jenny woke after 10, thankfully. She is incredibly weak, weaker and more unsteady than she was before the procedure. I made her eggs and toast, of which she ate a good portion. She is slurring her words today, which is weird. She is on her normal pain med regimen, or was before I left. Moni arrived shortly after Jenny had breakfast and she, the kids, and I took all the Christmas decorations down.  I got the boxes in, and will sp...

 Entry 1    4:16 p.m. We have Jenny home .  She is tired, weak, malnourished, in pain, but remarkably in good spirits. The surgeon did a second nerve block procedure when they did the stent procedure, but the pain persists. The C/T is clear where the pain is of anything that might be the cause. The oncologist, Doc P, who visited Jenny again last night, is baffled. Mind you, the pain is real, so real that only 20 mg. of oxy, a dose of dilaudid and muscle relaxants managed to get the pain to a tolerable level just a few minutes ago.  While at hospital, Jenny called me crying, and I hurried as fast as I could to see her--there was a slight problem with my Jeep being covered with snow that I had to address first. I had hoped that I could talk to a doctor, but none ever arrived once I got there. Jenny had already been discharged, and was just waiting for a transporter to get her downstairs. I am going to reach out to the palliative folks with whom which we have a mee...

Entry 1     7:35 a.m. This morning Jenny is headed home , in theory.  The house is freezing, the heating system is spotty at best in our new home and the repair people are a bit busy. I did get the heat pump to function for a few hours yesterday--thanks again Cheryl--but it gave up the ghost.  The backup electrical heating will keep the pipes from freezing, but it is no good for much else. I made the mistake of turning off the gas fireplace overnight, thinking it would be ok in here without it. I was madly mistaken. I did chore after chore yesterday, leaving it ship shape  and Bristol fashion for Jenny's arrival home . We miss her, the kids and I. We need to get her nourished now that the stent is in and nutrition possible. Lots of broth, jello, smoothies and other soft things to eat. We have a full pantry and lots of food in the fridge and freezers.  Entry 2    12:09 p.m. At hospital with Jenny.  She is complaining of a pain in her side...

 Entry 1.   11:07 a.m. Apparently, Picozzi extended Jenny's stay a day after seeing her last night, and didn't tell her.  This annoys me. Not that they want to keep her, if she needs to be there, she should be there. But no one told her.  She will be disappointed if she isn't home today. If they do keep her, I will be glad. She needs to be able to eat, to get nutrition. The dietician's note says that Jenny is at high risk with severe acute malnutrition having lost more than 5% of her body weight in the last month.  Get her fed for chrissakes. Please, get her fed. Entry 2.   1:17 p.m. Special thanks to Cheryl Reid who suggested I check my heat pump before calling for it to be repaired.  She suggested I make sure the air intake is not blocked by snow.  I still have no clue where the air intake is, but I cleared the snow from the machine and now, after 3 days, the heat pump is producing heat again.   In less positive news, because...

Entry 1     8:14 a.m.   Night and day. I visited Jenny last night. She was in high spirits AND fully hydrated for the first time in ages. She seemed to be feeling better than she has been in weeks. She was alarmingly thin, but that is unsurprising as she is still on a very restricted diet of clear liquids, and hasn't eaten in forever. She had a dextrose/saline drip, which I wish she had everyday to augment food/water intake, which due to cachexia and the duodenal blockage was close to zero for a couple of weeks at least, only alleviated until now by repeated visits to the ER. Jenny has to have a barium enhanced CT today, and then, absent any leakage from the stent in the findings, will be discharged.  Moni will bring her home. Snow on our street is still compact and unsanded, and so it will remain until it melts, so I am grateful I am not driving to VM. Entry 2.    9:19 a.m. I just spoke with Jenny. The barium CT procedure is not scheduled until 2...

 Entry 1.    7:39 a.m. Dogs woke me some.time ago, just after 7:00 a.m. Around 5:00 a.m. Jenny sent a text telling us she goes for her procedure this morning at 9:30 a.m. The sooner the better. Hopefully, this means she is home more quickly.  The G.I. surgeon will call me this morning, post-procedure (it's endoscopic), to tell me how it went. Someone gave us an electric St. Peregrine votive candle when Jenny got sick. Peregrine is the patron saint of cancer patients.  Time to flip the switch on that bad boy.   Entry 2.    9:58 a.m. Jenny has had so many scopes in the last 17 months she expected not to be put under general anesthesia.  This procedure requires it, we just learned.  I will  visit, hopefully, this afternoon.  The surgeon says he expects she will be home tomorrow. Fingers crossed. Entry 3     11:50 a.m. The surgeon called just after 11. The procedure, he told me, was a success. Jenny was awake a...

 Entry 1    12:15 p.m. Jenny is in the hospital until Wednesday. I am home with the girls. She has a procedure in the morning. Not much else to report. Our heat pump stopped working, so our backup electric heat system kicked in. It is for shit. We have the gas fireplace and two electric heaters in the living room to supplement the electric heat that kicks in when the heat pump isn't working. It is quiet here. The girls are on the sofa, and have been together for more than an hour. It is a combination of the cold basement, the need for emotional support to deal with the fears we all harbor, that drove Abby from her lair.  I am grateful.  So many of Jenny's friends are reaching out. The time is coming that I will talk to them for the last time. I am dreading Jenny's death. I am also dreading the pregnant "how are you doing" questions that will come for the next year or years. The "I am so sorry" and "How are the kids handling this?" statements an...

 Entry 1     7:32 p.m. At hospital. We arrived at 7:00 and were brought right in to an exam room.  Jenny didn't keep anything down today.  Again.  She desperately wanted to stay home--ans not be admittrewho could blame her.  I wanted to stay home, but need her to get water and nourishment. Here comes the doc. .  . She has Dilaudid on board. I'm jealous. She is still starving though. I am thankful her pain is gone.

 Entry 1.   1:57 a.m. No ghost came to visit me on the hour. I won't wake up a changed man. I will wake up with the anguished pleas of Jenny to stop the suffering still ringing in my head. I need her to get admitted today, she is suffering so. I have been awake worrying for nearly 24 hours, and sleep is about as close as the nearest star. Please let this Christmas be memorable for her, let it bring some sustenance for her soul, since she cannot eat anything less ethereal.  May the girls love their gifts and the celebratory atmosphere when my sisters come, and may the roads be clear enough to get to VM easily. Entry 2     8:30 a.m. Jenny is awake, and called me upstairs to visit. She told me she feels better this morning, which is good after last night, when she was in so much pain and so hungry she was begging to die. Christmas morning, let's hope it is peaceful.

 Entry 1.    1:04 p.m. I was up with Frank into the wee small hours of the morning, when the whole wide world is fast asleep . I wasn't listening to that masterpiece, the first-ever concept album by the way (yes, the king of cool, ol' blue eyes invented that now dead construct), but to his first Christmas album. I bought it at Peaches🍑 Records, near my then home in the U-District. It was the day Jenny and I went on our first date, seeing The Act Theater's production of A Christmas Carol . I also bought Bummed Out Christmas, but that seemed too on point. Jenny threw up all of her stomach contents again this morning. She is having broth now, but I am fairly convinced, given she has thrown up every day for days on end, that this will not stay with her either.  She was out running errands, when she called to tell me. I am not kidding. She can't stand for more than a few seconds, nor walk more than a few feet without risking collapse, has no nutrition in her body, and i...

Jenny's CT results have been read by me. I tried to find them last night, to no avail. They tell a terrible story. Pancreatic cancer is a monster.  She doesn't know or hasn't read or doesn't remember all that was told to her. I won't write them here until she knows. I am very glad we have 🎅🎅🎄⛄🎄⛄ ❄️🦌🎅🎅 Christmas together.

Entry 1. 9:31 a.m. Jenny is still in bed, but has talked to Edit at VM. We should expect some calls today. The reason the block never really worked is because the pain is coming from the duodenum, and the pressure is on nerves not deadened by the plexus block.  So, that makes sense.  She can't up her dosage of oxycodone, but they will likely prescribe a fentanyl patch for her.  They also have scheduled the procedure (placing of the stent) for the 27th, but support her coming in on Sunday inpatient.  More as I learn new information. I have been up since 3:43 a.m. worried about the implications of chemo. She is getting a pill six days a week, an infusion one. But if she keeps nothing down, what use is a pill? When she empties the contents of her stomach--she empties the entire contents of her stomach.  With her cancer raging, what is the point of this chemotherapy if she will just throw it up? She will absorb enough to get the side effects maybe, but to do any goo...

 Entry 1 9:22 p.m. W hat a long day of troubles.  It was a day of upset and good news. Like Yin and Yang or the spread of the omicron virus and extending work from home for several more months.   First, my friend in Wisconsin had zero margins after her procedure. This means her cancer is gone. They got all of it. Her kids can stop worrying. Her friends can breathe a sigh of relief. Also, fuck cancer. It's the best news I have heard in a long time, and it truly made my morning. Great way to start the day.  It didn't get better, although, in fairness, it is hard to imagine how it could, other things being equal. I woke Jenny at 10. Feeling horrible, her bowl of applesauce from last night, sitting in the bed barely touched, the bowl miraculously not upset while she slept.  She looked dehydrated, defeated, disappointed, haggard, worn, spent. Its that look you get when it's 3 a.m. and you've been driving down a strange highway since the bartender kicked you out ...

 Entry 1     10:57 p.m. This post feels like it needs to be a triptych.  Not a beginning, middle and end, but the day feels like it is three different days rolled into one.  It was full. Los Perros Malos have been moved downstairs to the dining area for sleeping quarters, the placement of the treadmill making their relocation necessary.  The good news is that meant the dogs wake up Leiney, still sleeping on the couch, who feels duty-bound to let them out and let me sleep. I woke hearing Buddy's bark. A notorious escape artist, I presumed he'd broken free from his cell. Turns out, Leiney as kind and conscientious as ever, let the dogs out. Returning to sleep was out of the question, so I got up. Our housecleaner arrived at 8:00 a.m.. Apparently the kitchen got short shrift today, according to Moni, who was over later in the day to clean the fridge out and then made some concoction for us to eat for dinner. I finally called a dishwasher repair guy, who w...

 Entry 1.  1:53 a.m. We go to the Central Cinema each year for the Christmas Sing-a-Long. It is a family affair. We typically have between 15 and 20 people there, and have had more, likely.  Filled with mostly videos from the 1980s, it is a roaring good time.  But we didn't go last year, and this year we all bought tickets excited to restart the tradition.  And then.  .   ..fucking omicron. At least it isn't omega.  So, we are having a few family members over to do the Sing-a-Long later this week. With regard to omicron, I have been to a restaurant, shopping, and took the kids to the movies today, because I have some sort of death wish.  No more. I am not going out again, and want people who come into the house to be tested.  Jenny won't put up with that last measure, I will guess. But she cannot have a booster. She has already been off chemotherapy since November 18--I asked her tonight.  Her meds are due tomorrow, they are be...

 Entry 1     10:24 p.m. Processes and mechanisms associated with cancer-associated cachexia Cachexia, also known as wasting disease, is a condition that is common among cancer patients, and is often what kills you before the cancer itself. I've written about it here before. Jenny weighed 147 lbs. last night, which seems to be a stable weight. She is so thin and gaunt it is incredible. But, sans chemo--its been four weeks, she seems more robust. She can't stand for long periods of time, she can't walk for very many feet without risking collapse, but she has stopped the freefall.  Her meds still haven't arrived from wherever they are being shipped from, and Christ only knows what the cancer is up to inside her body.   Yesterday, a family friend brought over a treadmill for Jenny to use in her battle against cachexia. Cachexia weight loss eliminates lean muscle mass and the good fat in your body, rendering you weak and without energy reserves.  ...

 Entry 1     3:04 p.m. Last night, as I was upstairs avoiding Jane The Virgin, binging that happens every single day since Leiney arrived home, Jenny got a call from Abby's therapist.  I had emailed the therapist last week to make sure she knew how seriously ill Jenny is, concerned that Abby and Jenny may have achieved détente, but have yet to establish entente between them. We got rid of the peace table years ago, but it sure would come in handy, let me tell you.   Jenny took the call in her room. I was in the office watching Quincy, because I am a nerd, when she came in upset.  Clearly, the therapist had talked to Abby trying to help move the peace process along. She informed Jenny that Abby felt Jenny still hadn't apologized for failing to help her through her difficult middle school years. It isn't untrue that we, Jenny and I, dropped the ball. Abby switched schools on her own in 6th grade to attend the neighborhood school, and to get away fro...

 Entry 1     10:46 a.m. Jenny is up and out. She shuffled into my room before leaving to go see Heather and do a bit of Christmas shopping. I do worry about her.  This extended chemo respite, its been some time now, and will be some time--maybe a week--before she begins again. That makes me nervous.  Her receiving chemotherapy makes me nervous. Her not receiving it makes me nervous. It isn't six of one, half-a-dozen of the other.  But I don't know. I just don't. If I haven't noted it, the doctor suggested this chemo regime will have milder effects on her body--and didn't mention loss of hair. But it is gemcitabine which caused her hair loss before, and that is the primary constituent of this chemo. I read a study from 2014 on GTX for people receiving the drug after second, third and fourth line failure, and it is fairly positive in terms of extending life. At least something positive to ponder.  

 Entry 1      8:41 p.m. Jenny went alone to pick up her Chinese medicine this morning. I didn't go with her, as I was working. She then took her meds to Murray's, who is now brewing Jenny's tea for her. The smell pervades the house, and Jenny can't stand the smell and worries it bothers us. I think, also, this started because it was getting hard for Jenny to brew it herself, and allowed her more opportunity to see el pinché. When Jenny arrived home, she almost collapsed from exhaustion from the driving and the walk from the garage into the house. It was brutal. She won't stop driving. We left immediately for the oncology appointment. At VM, I parked in the parking garage, very close to an exit to avoid a long walk.  She took no more than 20 or 30 steps and doubled over in exhaustion.  I waited for her to recover, and we slowly crossed the street to the entrance, with me offering my arm for balance. I grabbed a wheelchair to transport her through the COVID c...

 Entry 1. 5:37 a.m. Awake since 5. I already hate today.  Yesterday, Jenny was contemplating quitting chemo. So, we talked about it off and on during the day. She is worried people will think she quit or gave up. I assured her that she has survived far longer than expected, and people wouldn't think she gave up. I would support whatever choice she makes, I told her, but it has to be her choice.  We talked about quality of life and chemotherapy's impact on that. I told her I have great concern she will remain largely debilitated on chemo, barely moving from the couch, and additionally will lose her hair. I have not contemplated having that conversation with Jenny, but of course it was always going to happen. Is she serious this time about quitting? Yes, but fear of death will keep her on track to do more chemo, never mind the bullocks, damn the torpedoes, and full steam ahead.

 Entry 1     9:20 a.m. It's all too much for Jenny. It's all too much for the girls. It's all too much for me. Jenny's abdominal pain has yet to go away completely, which was the promise of the procedure. She took her morning pain relief medicine, and the pain stopped, so that is some progress. But yesterday was incredibly hard for her. She really didn't move from the couch. Last night I drove Chris' family to the airport--Abby shuttling 2 of the 5 people in her car. The plan had been for Jenny to drive one of the cars. She was too weak. While we were taking the family to the airport, Jenny tried to get up from the couch to wash a mug. She was too winded to do it when she got to the sink.  I made breakfast yesterday  morning for everyone, Jenny and a couple friends, Abby and I.  Jenny complained of being in pain still, and I made sure she got her medication. I suggested that by today the celiac plexus block procedure should work. I didn't really know, ...

 Entry 1      10:40 p.m. Long day.  Jenny woke up sad and in pain. She isn't supposed to have pain in her abdomen. That was the point of the procedure. At bedtime, having already taken 3 oxycodone, she was suffering so much she took 2 Dilaudid.  I hope it provides some relief. I optimistically suggested that the procedure may show results tomorrow. Let's hope. It takes every ounce of will for Jenny to move more than a few feet. Her energy level is no better than it was before she received the 2 units of blood a week ago. She wants to help me with things, but I won't let her for fear she may fall and injure herself. Tonight, as I was cleaning up from dinner, she left the couch to try and take Willow outside. She made it 8 feet maybe, before she almost collapsed. I don't want her to help, I don't want her getting injured, she is in enough pain as it is.  I got her back to the sectional and took the dogs out myself, and asked her to please not try that ag...

 Entry 1   2:13 p.m. Jenny's friend Jeanne, who apparently thinks I am terrible to Jenny, (I've read the texts) is here visiting. I have always liked her.  She is one of the therapist friends who was giving Jenny advice after I found out about the affair.

Did not leave until almost 7. That meant our parking was free, for reasons I have yet to comprehend.  Jenny was in fine spirits all the way home, and as soon as we entered the driveway, fell into terrible spirits.  Go figure. On a positive note, the person who signed up for meal train tonight sent a $200 gift card. Community is amazing.

 Entry 1     5:43 a.m. Jenny woke me at midnight via text in horrible pain, so bad it broke through her regular meds.  This was the worst pain she has had, I can say. I got her Dilaudid, the drug she was told to take when the pain breaks through the oxycodone. Bringing her meds to her with water, she took the Dilaudid and then I laid with her. She writhed in agony. I rubbed her back and arm. She is so skinny I felt bones wherever I touched her.  She fell back asleep about 12:43 a.m. I quietly got up and retreated to my room, hopeful she would now sleep until morning.

 Entry 1.    4:20 9:20 p.m. Jenny's new  marijuana guru sent a preliminary shipment of tincture and bud for her to use to treat her cancer, while he creates her magic oils.  I smoked so much pot as a kid, people could easily have mistaken me as the lovechild of Cheech & Chong . I knew growers and dealers in my neighborhood, and their and saw operations that would have blow your mind in the 1980s. I quit smoking when I was 20. I tried it again, off and on after I was 45, but it doesn't work for me. Jenny was not a pot smoker, maybe tried it a few times, like 3-4, well after she was in her 20s. She has tried to use different forms of it to treat her cancer, encourages by healthcare professionals including her palliative doc.  I have a friend who runs a network of pot shops in California, and she hooked me up with a Ph.D botanist in 2020, and he gave me lots of advice, all of it good. We tried to follow it. Smoking the flower was the best, he said. But J...

 Entry 1     9:36 a.m. I am at work. Jenny texted me to tell me pain woke her up and she can't get out of bed. I called her and she couldn't stop crying. I tried to comfort her by acknowledging the hell she is going through and telling her I love her, but my words are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. The suffering just keeps washing over her, and here I am, ineffectual.   I called her friend Heather, the one who just cancelled or postponed her trip to London to be around to help Jenny. She is on her way over. Leiney is with Jenny now, but it's too much to expect her to do on her own. Please let Jenny make it through her birthday.

I'd prefer Taco Tuesday to tandem therapy any day. This therapy sucked . We spoke openly about Jenny dying, that she will die sooner rather than later.  We talked about it for half an hour. I was sad, she was sad. It was somber. Bonding even. Then it changed. Let me be clear.  It's been a year and some change. I have dealt with my feelings around Jenny's long running affair--the one she refused to stop--and made it clear that the purpose of therapy was not to fix this ramshackle jalopy we call a marriage, but to allow us to live together while she is sick. Not being the one with pancreatic cancer, I meant we wouldn't deal with it for the rest of her life. Fine.  I also made clear, while I would be able to do this, I would not countenance Sheila Capestany or Jennifer Murray at our home. Over time, I loosened up a bit about Jennifer. She would, when we lived in Ravenna, go hang out in the back yard with Jenny. I got some of my best information on the affair eavesdropping ...

 Entry 1.    1:16 a.m. My crate mates think I am member of the pack. Tired finally. My mind preoccupied. Jenny wants to start planning a party for March, a living wake.  I suggested we do it on her birthday. Left unspoken is my fear March is too late. I hope I am wrong.  This evening, she couldn't really leave the couch. She keeps offering to help clean. What she could accomplish just a week ago she cannot do today. If she can push herself to a car, she has energy to drive places, but getting out of the car and making it.  .  . say. . . to the back of Bartell's is now unimaginable.