Back Again

After another long blogging absence, I’m back. I apologize to anyone who regularly follows this blog and isn’t connected with me on Facebook to get my updates.

First of all, Mike is fine. Since my last entry, Mike has completed his radiation and two planned inpatient chemo rounds, each lasting about a week. They gave him high doses of methotrexate, hoping to kill the cancer cells including the ones found in the spinal fluid (methotrexate is one of the chemos that will cross the blood barrier of the spinal column). His liver did take quite a hit, though. His liver function tests spiked after the first round, then gradually came down in the following week. The numbers also spiked with the second round, but they went even higher than the first time. As a result, it doesn’t look like they will want to do a third round of this. Instead, they will likely find an out-patient chemo schedule, followed by a maintenance treatment plan. Alongside the chemo, Mike is diligently taking part in Tong Ren treatments to give this cancer an even bigger kick in the arse.

We’re also praying, but as usual of late, I’m on and off the wagon with it.

Between the two rounds of chemo, we snuck in a long-awaited vacation to Mike’s parents’ house in Florida. What a needed getaway. It did us both a world of good to get down there, especially since we hadn’t been there for three years. The warm, dewy air was the best thing in the world for Mike’s dry eye and sinuses. We didn’t want to leave!

Now, it’s back to reality – doctor visits, waiting to see what this week’s blood counts are, fever watch, germaphobia, etc. I’m also treated to my favorite conversations at work – listening to my co-worker talk incessantly about her daughter’s latest pregnancy, thinking of baby names and whether it’ll be a girl or not according to her Intelligender test. One day I even got to listen to her explain to another co-worker how much different pregnancy is when you’re older, and how hard it can be after age 35 (gee, thanks). Instead of measuring blood counts and liver levels, we should be measuring betas and sonogram progress, shouldn’t we?

But every step of the way, there is Mike, as supportive and loving as ever. A few weeks ago, I actually woke up at 5:50 AM to watch the Royal wedding. Mike e-mailed me at work later and wrote, "Every morning I wake up happy knowing you are the love of my life. I never think I could love you more, but then you do adorable stuff like getting up to see a silly wedding. It means you still have hope in your heart. It means you still can dream. It means you still enjoy life, despite what I've put you through."

Last Saturday night we took my mom out to dinner for Mother's Day. When Mike signed our copy of the debit card receipt, he wrote me this note (whenever he fills out a receipt like that he writes me a little note so I see it when I go to write it in the checkbook):



In a horrible irony, it's a little easier to handle infertility when we're thrust into one of Mike's health-related storms because the latter has our total focus. But when Mike is doing well and feeling better, the emptiness of childlessness becomes more apparent. Naturally, Mike's health is the most important thing in our lives, but it seems one way or another our hearts are being wrenched by something. With each new pregnancy announcement from a friend, with each birthday, with each day my grandparents get older and more frail, I worry about my window for motherhood getting smaller and smaller.

Lord, please don't close that window without opening a door.