I arrived home Friday night. I didn’t have the greatest day. So much so I was even crying. A lot. My second line beeped and beeped and beeped and beeped. I blew my nose, and told my Bff I would call her back because some is in trouble! I was being sarcastic at the time. Only to answer to my sons doctor. I gained my composure and pretended I was just fine. Of course at that time, my mental chalkboard had just been wiped clean. On to bigger and things that REALLY matter to cry about. I cordially said hello. She greeted me back. We went through the typical small talk. Then came the gritty. “I’m so sorry. Your suspicions were correct. Gary is developing brand new calcium on his neck.” If I could express my devastation properly, this screen would suddenly go black. Oh man. I mean I believed so hard he would come off prednisone just fine, he has not and will not. The NIH was right. He will never. I hate! Hate hattte! I feel like my life is one big trick. But I could give a shit about what I feel. It’s him. I’m so sorry my son. I feel like years are being shaven off his life. I just get to watch it happen.
His doctor suggested we run another medical he has had in the past. I declined. I said if there is any chance of him qualifying for a transplant, why would we risk damaging his liver further. I declined a tour of the cancer care alliance where could possibly be done. I was wrong. I should have went to the appointment so they could have seen the disfigurement his disease causes. My doctor tried to hint to me but flat out said it, “take him so they can see him”. Deep breath 😪😰😭😢