In this post last weekend, I said that I didn't know what to do.
Well, now we're still a bit numb, but at least we have a clue and the beginnings of a plan. And if we're not to New Normal yet, we can at least see New Normal from here. It's sort of like Abby's allergy; there's this life-threatening thing, and we just have to work around it. It's a matter of degree, really.
We've also learned quite a bit.
...Stage Four, while still dreaded, is no longer an automatic sentence of Doom. There are treatments for everything, especially as - if I understand it correctly - the only reason Laston's cancer is characterized as Stage Four is that it's in more than one organ.
...on that note, we're sticking with the Western medicine here. That's not to say we don't appreciate some of our friends' and relatives' thoughts on alternative therapies, but if it's something that needs fixing right now, we choose Western. Just as with appendicitis or a broken leg, if it's urgent, we're doing it this way. Anyone who knows me knows that I am more than happy to tout massage therapy and chiropractic and aromatherapy, but to me (and even more so for Laston) those are for relief from pain and other symptoms, maybe even curing something chronic, not for killing cancer cells.
...we have even more friends and others to support us than we realized, to the point where people we haven't seen for decades are popping out of Facebook to say hi and give us a virtual hug. That doesn't even include those nearby who have offered logistic help: driving here and there, babysitting, etc. You guys rock.
...I still loathe underground parking garages. Elevators to and from them, and driving in the city after dark are nearly as bad. Thank Google all non-surgical procedures are up here in the 'burbs, a couple miles from both home and work. Because the city is scary for me and the Hubs. We have enough stress, thanks.
...Laston came through having the chemotherapy port installation with flying colors. No problems with his blood pressure or anything else. He did great. And I guess everything and its brother can be put in and out of that port. It's like a USB; it'll take anything that fits. He can get a flu shot through it, and the iron they're giving him tomorrow, as well as the chemo treatments themselves. That's handy.
...none of the kids have run screaming anywhere with an ax or anything else sharp. And if I'm a little touchy and overtired and stressed, well... I haven't either. Laston just doesn't have the energy to (and likely won't until after his iron infusion).
All in all, it could be worse. We could be in a place with no-one supporting us, no family or friends online or in person. We could have crap doctors.
It still sucks. But at least we're getting a handle on the suckage.