Almost two weeks ago, we visited Chad’s oncologist for a routine check-up. Bloodwork. Questions. Typical stuff; nothing out of the norm. Until the doctor asked if we had been contacted about Chad’s MRI and lab results from March.
We had seen the neurosurgeon in early May (the same day as the scan, actually) and were told all was well.
There was nothing to note in the MRI and his other labs and scans looked fine.
We weren’t due back for another scan until September, 6 months! We were pretty excited that we had made it to the 6-month MRI schedule instead of every 3 months.

After a frustrating waiting period of nearly 2 weeks, I finally had the chance to speak with our neurosurgeon’s assistant this week.
There are conflicting opinions on Chad’s MRI scan.
But IT (the not-so-friendly name I’ve give to Chad’s brain cancer) is back.

At this point, no one is sure if the “several significant changes” are tumor regrowth or new areas of tumor.
The change is slight and too small to treat at this point, but it all makes so much sense to us now.
The terrible seizure last month, the worsening memory and balance issues, the extreme (even more than normal for Chad) fatigue.
Chad is having a lot of difficulty making his right leg and foot do what he wants it to do; and he was finally diagnosed with apraxia.

Chad made the decision last Summer that he was done with treatment if and when the tumors came back.
Given this new information about IT, I had to know if he had changed his mind.
And, no. He hasn’t.
I can’t say I blame him. I’m exhausted and I know he has to be, too.
He tries so hard to be strong for everyone, but I can see in his eyes just how tired he is.
Being strong is draining in itself.

I am desperately trying to remain positive until we have results of his MRI at the end of this month (June 29).
Then, we’ll meet with the neurosurgeon again and probably be shuffled around to various specialists and doctors for opinions.
I think, at least for now, Chad has made the decision not to do that this time around.

I’m sure my caregiving role is about to change, yet again.
And I’m so glad to have found the support I need in all of you.
Our situations may be different, but the challenges are not.
We all struggle to find the joyful moments in each day.
Today, my joyful moment was watching my little girl blow out her 4th birthday candle and make a wish.

A few moments later, she whispered to me, “Mommy, I wished that I was a mermaid. I wished we were all mermaids. Because they are magic. And mermaids can’t have boo-boos in their head like Daddy.”
Sweet, sweet girl.

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