A Break from the Gloom and Doom

I know the posts have been a bit... dark lately.  There's good reason behind that, but that's not all there is to our lives.  Tabby isn't gone yet, and we still manage to get out and have some fun occasionally.  So, to that end, I wanted to post a few pictures of my gal.  Tabby's sister (Althea), her husband (Vincent), and their kids (Hallie and Kaia) came for a visit, along with Tabby's mom (Ruth).  We decided that being cooped up in the house wasn't a good idea, so we went to Greune (pronounced "green."  Don't ask).  We managed to get there just in time for "Market Days," which a chaotic mix of local artisans, great food, and live music.  I just wanted to give a little joy with some photos we took from the day.

So here's Ruth (Tabby's Mom) with Tabby in Mamacita's restaurant.

And here's Tabby enjoying some sunlight. 

Tabby with my wonderfully goofy daughter Zoe.

Front Row:  Zoe, Hallie, Kaia.  Back row: Althea, Tabby, Ruth

Tabby and Zoe, and some random weirdo who happened to be passing by...

Me with my brother-in-law, Vincent.  I swear, there was something interesting up there.  No really...

And me, with the look I usually have on my face.  

So, there.  We enjoyed being out of the house.  Tabby was able to walk around for a couple of hours, then had to go home.  She was wiped out for the rest of the day (and most of the next one), but it was good to see her smile and laugh.  

So let this post be a warm fuzzy to you all.  

Love to you. 

Update on Tabby - March 20, 2013

This is a difficult entry to post.  So much has happened since the last update, and much of it within the last 24 hours.  I'm not sure where to begin, but I suppose it should be with Tabby, and an explanation of the image to the left.

We saw Tabby's doctor yesterday to get the results of the CT scan she had on Monday.  The results were that the cancer has grown.  The new treatment did nothing.  Tabby's mother was with us when we heard the news.

The doctor told us it was time to consider hospice care.  For those who don't know, hospice is either a nursing home or in-home care for the terminally ill.  The purpose is to treat the symptoms that come along with dying to make the patient as comfortable as possible until the inevitable happens. What we've known all along just hit us like the proverbial ton of bricks.  There will be no more chemotherapy.  There is no more chance of survival.

I cannot begin to relate to you what it is like, the terrible knowledge that I'm going to lose the other half of my soul.  I cannot begin to fathom the deep ache that Ruth, Tabby's mother, is feeling at the impending loss of a child.  I can't even begin to imagine what is coming for our children at the loss of their mother at such a young age.

Out of this, came a small moment of happiness.  Because of Tabby's condition, she can't actually work. She's been out of work for a year, which means we halved our income and (due to medical bills) we doubled our output.  The point of this isn't to complain, so bear with me.  The home we're living in now, well, to borrow a political phrase, the rent's too damned high.  We can't really afford to live there anymore.  So yesterday, while I was out getting another round of medication for Tabby from our local supermarket, I took a detour through a neighborhood near Plum Creek.  I don't know why I did, other than I kept wondering what was back there, so today my curious nature got the best of me.  As I drove around the tiny subdivision (seriously, there are a total of four streets), I found a house, just one, that was for sale.  A one-story house (Tabby can no longer climb stairs very well...) with a larger square footage than the one we're currently in.  I called the relator and made an offer.  The owner accepted, with VERY little down and payments nearly $200 lower than what I'm paying now.  The house has a beautiful tree in the back yard under which Tabby can sit, and she loves the house.  To make a long story short, if I can get the financing together (I think I can), we're moving.  Tabby won't be doing any of the lifting or anything... That'll be me and whomever I can bribe with beer and pizza.  But the house will be a quiet, serene place for her.  That's the point.  That's what has to happen.  My youngest will stay at her same school, see her friends, and is generally thrilled.  The house is what we've been hoping for.

I am, beyond a doubt, devastated.  Tabby is heart-broken.  I don't know how long I have left with her, but we intend to make the best of it.

Love to all of you.

SAJ

Update on Tabby: 2-6-2013

Before I get too far into this, I need to say something.  Thank you to everyone who reads these, comments on them, shares them, etc.  There's not a whole lot, at this point, I can do or that anyone can do, but it is appreciated.

Yesterday, we went back to Austin to visit with Tabby's doctor and get the results of her latest CT scan.  We expected everything to be stable.  Our expectations were not met.  The tumors have grown.  Significantly.  What that means is that the last year of chemotherapy Tabby has endured has done nothing more than hold it at bay.  It hasn't ben successful in fighting it.  We are all very disappointed.

So what does that mean?  First, back into chemotherapy for Tabby, but this time without the "hooded nightmare" cisplaten, or the torture-drug nulasta.  She's using a drug called Taxol, and will be infused with it once a week for, likely, the rest of her life. In two weeks, we look again to see if there needs to be adjustments made on the dosage, if she's allergic to it, or if it is having any effect whatsoever.  This new drug does have a lower success rate than the first.  If this one fails, there's one other, and it has a lower percentage still.

The doctor was very clear:  She told Tabby that there would come a point where Tabby would have to make a decision.  People who are not in chemotherapy do tend to feel better than those who are not, but they live longer.  Tabby nodded her head and said "Okay.  Let's fight."

Define "tenacity."  Look it up in any dictionary, and you should find a photo of my wife.

There's not much else for me to say at this point.  I continue to watch over her, try to provide comfort for her and my girls, and keep doing what I do because the world, in general, doesn't give a damn.  No matter what happens, the world will keep turning, bills will still need to be paid, and people will still expect things to get done.  And someone has to do them.  So I'm doing them.

I was asked what effect this had on our day to day lives.  I can't even begin to answer that question without sounding like whining, so I won't.  I'll just say there's been a huge impact, the likes of which I hope no one I know will ever endure.  Emotionally, financially, psychologically...  Cancer doesn't just claim one person.  It claims families.  It claims friends.  Those of us that must, do what we must.

Tabby doesn't have an expiration date.  She's planning on fighting until she can't anymore.  How long that will be is anyone's guess.  And I'll be the guy in her corner screaming at her to get back up and fight.  Because I love her.  And because that's what we do.

SAJ