Our babies!

Like a dog losing his master

Monday morning we woke up anxious.  Anxious for the unknowns, anxious to start our new life, just anxious.  It is hard to sing happy birthday to Dusty and be all excited when in the back of my mind all I want to do is scream!  We took the kids to school and headed to the oncology office to start our first dose of chemo.  On the way there I kept probing Dusty (like I always do).  "What are you feeling?  How are you?  Are you nervous?"  I said, "Do you want to listen to Metallica?"  He said, "YEAH!!!"  We drove fast and rocked hard!  It was probably comical to outsiders at traffic lights.  We got to the intersection to pull into the parking lot and I asked if he wanted to continue driving for a few more minutes and listen to "For whom the Bell Tolls", my favorite Metallica song?  He said, "No, I'm ready to get this started!"  We went in and everyone greeted us with warm welcomes.  Either they feel sorry for this young couple or they are all aware of the scary battle of esophageal patients.  Sometimes I feel like we are a circus show.  We went in to see the doctor and go over his thoughts on our plan from MD Anderson.  He thinks it is a great plan.  For the first time we were explained why we were sent home and why we are doing the plan this way.  The brainiacs at MD Anderson  don't talk much.  They are "thinkers" and that is fine with me!  Think away!  He said (I'll try my best to explain this) that since Dusty's CEA (Carcinoembryonic Antigen) numbers are so high, they want to treat him with three types of chemo.  You can only have three at one time; either three chemos or two chemos and one radiation.  Chemo mainly treats the whole body and radiation is a local treatment.  Since, Dusty's CEA is high the likely hood that their are micro metastasis throughout the body is high.  If they do two chemos and radiation it will only focus on the esophagus and lymph node next to it.  Doing three chemos will treat the whole body and kill any other metastasis that are not visible on the scans.  Ohhhhh, I get it!  For the first time, I get it.  This made me feel a lot better.  I understood the plan and agreed with the plan.  Instead of feeling like we were a lost cause and sent home we know that this plan is the BEST and feel like it will work.  Thank you God! 

They take us to the back to the "recliner room", where there are about 7 other patients there getting chemo.  All of them are in their high seventies.  The looks we get are looks of great depression, "how can this young man have such a horrible disease?"  The room is shaped like a capital T, divided into four sections, each section has four to five recliners in it.  We chose the middle section.  Dusty's professor Dr. Wear was with us.  She has been Dusty's mentor and we consider her family.  She helped keep Dusty's mind at ease.  I don't know what happened to me, but I lost it.  I mean, totally lost it.  I couldn't stop crying.  HUGE alligator tears rolling down my face.  I excused myself and went to the bathroom.  What are you doing?  Get it together!  I stayed in the bathroom for a good ten minutes.  I walked out and started heading back to the room and it hit me again.  I ran back to the bathroom and got sick.  What is going on?  Get strong, he needs you.  Come on!  I washed my face, which made me even more red, and went back to sit by Dusty.  Dr. Wear had left.  Dusty had a pillow in his lap and I laid my head on the pillow.  I felt like a dog bowing down to his Master.  Thinking about that made me more upset.  I started thinking if a dog's master died, so would the dog.  Which made me lose it again.  (Cheesy, I know, but this is what went through my head).  Dusty said, "You're not allowed to come anymore!"  Which made me bust out laughing.  I gathered myself and was able to pull it together.  If he can see the light in this, so can I.  Just don't go towards the light! :)  

Dusty had one hour of a steroid bag, 72 hour anti-nausea medicine, fluids and then she gave him a shot of a Ativan.  The nurse joked that she was going to get me one.  Really, I needed it!  Dusty started to snooze in and out.  After an hour she came back with another bag.  This time it was the first chemo.  Here come the tears.  I couldn't hold back.  This time they weren't tear shaped, just a river flowing.  I kept wiping my face. I called my mom and asked her to bring me an Xanax.  She did and I settled down and became the "rock" that everyone thinks I am.  Dusty did great with the first chemo.  After she attached the bag I watched for any changes in him.  Nothing.  He said it didn't feel any different.  whew!  He had that chemo for an hour then she brought the two hour chemo bag.  He did great with that one as well.  In the last 30 minutes they sped up the drip.  He quickly started feeling a burning in his arm.  So intense that he had the nurse come slow down the drip.  When she did that it added an hour to his time.  He said he would rather deal with the pain than sit for another hour. They turned the drip back up and put a warm rice bag on his arm.  It helped.  The pain went away.

Throughout the 4.5 hour treatment we had many visitors.  We had a party!  Dusty has a power house "A team".  We went to Miyabi's for dinner that night to celebrate his 28th birthday.  All in all, it was a great day.  We crossed the bridge and realized WE CAN GET THROUGH THIS!

Things just got a whole lot worse..

We woke up in good spirits again today.  I guess we are starting to realize it is what it is and there is nothing that we can do about.  We've started to "ride the current".  I did my usual, got all dressed up, made us both berry, mango, and banana smoothies, and woke Dusty up.  He quickly showered and got dressed.  We had an appointment with our GI oncologist.  We were in a great mood.  I thought we were going to hear good news today and give us our chemo start dates, chemo brands, and get us all in order to start our cure.

Our favorite nurse called us back.  We did dusty's vitals and then went into one of the patient rooms.  She told us about all of the events coming up that we could take advantage of: on Thursdays the museum is free, on the first Tuesday of the month the zoo is free, and we are within "free shuttle" distance to Miller Outdoor Theatre and Herman park, where they host many free shows.  We were excited to have more info on things to do.  She also showed us her band on Youtube and gave us her cell number, anytime we wanted to go out, to call her and she would tell us where her band was playing that night.  She is so great!
Next came a student doing research.  They love Dusty.  He is a young rare esophageal cancer patient.  They ask us for samples everywhere we go.  They did extra biopsies and always take extra blood for research.  Dusty is glad to help research, being a biologist.  She had a packet for us to fill out and asked us a ton of questions.  When Dr. Ajani came in she had to leave.  Dr. Ajani is such a genius that he isn't a man of many words.  He pulled up the endo with ultrasound and said that Dusty had two tumors 4+ cm in size.  He also noticed a spot on his liver.  Here we go again.  He said Dusty's cancer was very advanced and has been there for a long time.  I could see Dusty beginning to melt so I stepped in.  "Are you saying this is stage 4?"  Dr. Ajani said, "No because it is still localized."  Meaning, it hasn't spread to other organs.  But, I thought he saw something on the liver?  I just took the diagnoses he said because I didn't want to hear otherwise.  He said, "It is a deep stage 3.  Due to Dusty's age he does still qualify for the surgery."  Thank you Jesus.  He said there are a few more very small tumors developing in the general region and he wants to change the plan.  Not this again.  Back to the unknowns.  He wants us to go back to Augusta and do 9 weeks of three different types of chemotherapies without any radiation.  There is a serum in your blood that can encourage metastases.   A normal person's count of this serum is 0-3, a smoker is 3-6, but Dusty's is 54.  He doesn't understand why Dusty's is so high.  I'm sure they can't wait to pick and prod him some more to find out why.  The doctor said his blood is trying to spread the cancer.  You've got to be kidding me.  So not only is cancer trying to kill him but now his blood is trying to kill him.  I asked why he didn't want to do radiation along with the chemo and he said, "Because it will kill him."  Let's not do that.  When you take radiation it makes the cancer cells angry and want to spread.  With Dusty's blood serum counts so high he doesn't want to risk spreading.  He wants to just do chemo to kill the cells that are there and stop spreading.  So, we will do 9 weeks in Augusta, then move back to Houston and continue with the original plan (6 weeks of strong chemo and proton therapy (radiation), 6 weeks in Augusta to regain strength and then 2 weeks back in Houston for the surgery).  We just went from 14 weeks to 23 weeks.  Dusty is sad that he will be in Houston for Reynolds first day of kindergarten.  :(
The doctor left the room and the student came back in.  All I wanted to do was scream at her.  Really, are we really doing this.  We just got horrible news.  The last thing we wanted to do was answer questions about family history, diet, and living environments.  We were over this place and wanted to leave.  We walked back to our hotel room and didn't say a word.  Neither of us could talk.  I finally broke the silence and asked him what he wants from me.  "Do you want me to talk to you about it?  Do you want me to be quiet?  Do you want me to cry with you and hug?  What do you want me to do to help you?"  Being a caregiver is a difficult job.  I don't know how to do it and I'm not good at it.  I never know what to say.

The rest of the day was very hard.  We did a lot of crying and had many quiet moments.  We decided to  each take a Xanax and take a big nap.  We woke up refreshed and clear minded.  I think we have accepted this as a good thing.  We get to come home and do many weeks at home with the love and support of our friends and family.  But, we still have to come back and continue where we are ending today.

Our survival rates are low but our spirits are high and Dusty's strength is high.  He is young and WILL beat this.  He has to.  As for me, I can't breathe, my world is caving in, and all I want to do is sleep.  I'm scared to death, of death, of losing my life, my husband.  Please God, I need you, I need him.  

http://www.everydayhealth.com/esophageal-cancer/progression-of-esophageal-cancer.aspx

Different outlook on life.

Today was a great day!  I woke up early, curled my hair, and got all dressed up.  It makes me feel good to not walk around in sweats all day.  We had four appointments today.  The final appointment was his endoscopy with ultrasound.  The doctor told me that it would be two hours and then they would come get me.  I decided to have some "Stacey" time.  I went to our hotel room and did not want to sit around and watch TV.  I decided to go exploring.  I walked through all of the beautiful gardens, went to the butterfly garden and searched for each type of butterfly on the podium.  I took many pictures of the fountains, sculptures, and flowerbeds.  It was so peaceful.  I enjoyed every second of it.

When I returned to the hospital, they were almost ready for me to come back to the recovery room.  When I went back there, Dusty was just waking up.  He was so funny.  He had no idea what was going on.  Then, he got real serious, held my hand, and told me we were about to get life changing bad news.  What?  Did they already tell him something?  Stage 4 is non-curable.  Did they give him that news?  I think it was just the anesthesia.  He calmed down and started acting normal again.  I tried to read the nurses and doctor but couldn't.  I guess they are so use to this, that their demeanor doesn't change like the people in Augusta.   The doctor came in and gave us the pictures.  It looked like a horror slide show.  His tumor is nasty.  Awful!  He couldn't tell us what stage it is, that is the oncologist call, but he did say he didn't think it was stage 4.  Hallelujah!  He said it has not spread down to the stomach.  He did notice another small lymph node looked abnormal.  But he said it was so small that if it is cancerous, the chemo will kill it.  Plus, the surgeon is going to take all of the lymph nodes out of that area.

Dusty and I went back to our hotel and they were having a concert by a local choir.  They were singing cheesy upbeat songs, but it was fun seeing everyone so happy and dancing.  We are by far the youngest people in this hotel.  Probably because the only people that can afford this place are people with life savings and nest eggs.  We are blessed by our friends, families, and strangers who have donated so that we can be here.  Seeing the cute old couples dancing to My Girl made my day.  Cancer is not a death sentence.

Reality

Dusty and I arrived in Houston today.  Our journey has begun.  We are now Texans!  I've always wanted to move back to Texas but under much different circumstances.  Today reality hit again.  We are both terrified.  Dusty is scared of the unknowns and I'm scared of my strength.  I don't want to feel like the patient but being a caregiver is the most terrifying job that I will ever face.  Hopefully!  
Reality is all around us.  When we arrived at the Rotary House it hit both of us like a train.  We are checking into a cancer hotel.  Scary.  We took our bags up to the room and decided to go get something to eat.  In the lobby they had postings for a nutrition seminar.  We decided to go.  I mean, that is why we are paying a fortune for this place.  So we can get the best care, convenience, and learn from others through community.  They played a 15 minute video on nutrition: before, during, and after treatment.  The video followed four people during their treatments, one of which had esophageal cancer.  It felt like my spirit was ripped out to be relating to someone on a cancer video.  How can this be happening to us?  Dusty is too young.  After the video the dietician/nutritionist asked us questions and took questions from the crowd.  Dusty, being the student that he is, immediately started asking questions.  He told her about his esophageal cancer and she said, "Oh, we will be seeing a lot of you."  What does that mean?  Is his cancer worse than others?  My mind started racing again.  Why is she singling him out?  She said people with esophageal cancer get a full time nutritionist.  He will have a hard time swallowing due to the "burning of his esophagus" during radiation.  ?  But, he will need to keep his weight and strength up to handle the high amounts of chemo he will be receiving.  We took the information that we learned and got on the free hotel shuttle to Target to get some groceries and essentials.  We bought a lot of berries, fruits, and veggies.  We also bought a Magic Bullet (Elaine :)) to make smoothies and a crock pot to make soups.  I'm going to do my best to follow along side of Dusty's meals.  Like I said, "I don't want to eat filet while he is sipping on a spinach smoothie!"
On the way back we were passed by an ambulance.  When we got back to the hospital/hotel we saw a young child, maybe 8, being taken out on a stretcher.  I teared up but held back.  I don't want Dusty to see me cry right now.  It is so hard be faced with cancer by your husband, but a child.  I can't imagine.  I would die, seriously die if this were Reynolds or Harland.  Cancer is ruthless.  It doesn't care how old you are or what your story is.  It just comes along and wrecks your world.  I hate you cancer.  
Today I've tried to just sit back and observe.  I wanted to see if Dusty would give me his feelings without me always probing him.  He didn't.  I know he is trying to protect me and not worry me but I'm supposed to be here to give him support.  He is the greatest in that way, he would never want me to worry.  But, I am.  I see it in him.  He is scared.  We both are.  And reality is staring us down.

Wednesday we have four doctor's appointments.  We will have an endoscopy with ultrasound and will finally be given a stage.  We think either a stage 2 or stage 3.  PRAY for stage 2.  I'll keep everyone posted.  Continue to pray.  Thank you for all your love and support.

I see it happening

This is a hard blog.  

Through this whole process, I've thought that I wouldn't notice anything drastic until we started our treatments.  This is not the case.  I can see Dusty's health deteriorating in front of me.  I watch him start to struggle with strength.  He struggles with food.  He wouldn't dare say anything to me but I don't need him to say a word.  My husband is sick.  The man that I look to for comfort and strength is weakening daily.  It is killing me.  His hands have always been my rock but now I find myself holding him up.  I can't wait to get this process started.  The quicker we start.  The quicker he heals.  I need him better.  Reynolds needs him better.  Harland needs him better.  I'm ready to start the fight.  He is scared as hell but is putting on a good front.  I've seen a switch in my life.  I'm no longer listening to country music, I find myself listening to my old workout playlist.  :)  I feel like I did in school, warming up before a basketball game.  I'm getting my mind in the mood to fight.  And I'm ready.  I hope I'm as strong as I'm building myself up in my mind because Dusty is going to need my strength.  I'm ready.  Let's do this!  I want him healed.  

Please continue to pray.  

Ride the current.

In a couple of blogs you have heard me talk about a couple that I met, Steve and Becky.  Meeting them seemed like I was watching a lifetime movie.  Dusty and I decided to eat lunch at the restaurant in the Rotary Hotel (the hospital hotel that we have been raising money for).  In a facility like this it is hard not to eavesdrop into other peoples conversations.  You want to know how their progressions/treatments are coming along and we keep comparing our situation with others but we are quickly learning that all cancer is different, as is every patient.  We heard a lovely woman talking to her husband about getting good news today. I love eavesdropping on the "good news" stories.  I'm not going to give her private details. 
Dusty leaned over and started talking with them.  Me, being kind-of personal (well, until this blog!), got irritaded that he was bothering them while they were trying to celebrate.  But, they didn't hold back, they started talking to us and telling us a little of their story and helping us with any questions that we had.  They pretty much had us sold on the hotel.  Rotary should pay them for advertisement!  We finished our lunch and went to the front desk at the hotel.  We started to talk pricing and ask about the rooms.  They didn't have a room that they could show us.  Just then I felt the softest hands hold mine and say you can come see our room. It was Becky.  She said we could come see their room.  We went up to there room and ended up staying for a few hours.  Becky told us about her story with cancer and had such a positive attitude about it all.  It made me breakdown crying.  Here is me, with my husband who is just starting with his treatment and I'm hating life and here is a woman who has been surviving cancer for 8 years and she has the best spirit I've ever met.  I cried saying, "I can't wait to be where you are emotionally and spiritually."  She said, "Trust me, I've had my days."  She is a teacher and listening to her talk is like listening to Randy Pausch or Steve Jobs speak.  She is so inspirational and uplifting.  Her voice and words were like an angel singing.  Becky, I am striving to be like you.  And to Steve, her loving and supporting caregiver.  I envy your strength and love and hope that I can be half the partner to Dusty that you have been to Becky.

To you both:  I love you and know that we will meet again.  Maybe at Disney World!  And, yes, Becky, some days I may call you to "bitch!"  :)

Becky told us that we've already survived cancer.  He has it now and is surviving.  So we are surviving cancer! Also, she is a big fan of Disney, as are we, so she told us to "go with the flow".  Like in Finding Nemo, don't try to fight the current, ride the current.  Don't try to fight it or you'll wear yourself out.  Do what the doctors say and ride the current.

We will save Saint Raphael for when we really need him.  Thank you for the advice.

We just got a missile!

Dusty and I had many ups and downs in the last two days.  Yesterday we didn't have any doctors appointments so we went to explore Houston, our new home.  It was really hard to go back to the old "Dusty and Stacey".  After you know you have cancer it is like another person is with you.  It felt like it was "Dusty, Stacey, and Cancer" exploring the city.  At lunch there was an awkward pause when Dusty tried to swallow and his food got stuck.  I wanted to ask if he was okay but I know I sound like a broken record.  "Are you okay?  Do you want some water?  How can I help?  Lets go home."  I don't want to keep asking, it drives him crazy.  But, I also know Dusty would never say anything because he doesn't want me bored in a room all day.  I'm along for the ride.  If I have to sit in a room all day for six weeks, I will.  I don't care.  I just need Dusty.  We are in this together.  But, I'm learning to roll with it.  We don't always have to talk to be on the same page.  Tonight at dinner we just held hands across the table and didn't say a word for a long time.  It was nice.  Before, I felt I had to talk to keep the conversation flowing so that we wouldn't think about cancer.  Do you know how hard that is when the only thing on your mind is cancer?  But today was a good day.  There have been a lot of date unknowns, as far as when we will start our treatments, which makes making travel arrangements difficult and stressful.  Plane tickets go up hourly.  We also don't want to pay for a hotel here and be away from our boys when we only have one appointment left and it is a week later.  But we don't want to buy a plane ticket home and turn around and have to fly back a day later.  It is difficult.  But, today all of our appointments got aligned and we have a plan!  

Dusty has said this whole time that he felt like he was running through the woods, bleeding, and being chased by a bear.  Well, today we got our plan from the doctors.  Dusty said, "He got a shotgun, today."  I said, "No honey, we just got a missile!"  The love and support that we have gotten from family, friends, and STRANGERS is overwhelming.  Thank you to each of you for your love and support.  I can't tell you how much the donations are going to help.  You all are our missile.  Let's go to battle baby!!  I've already booked our flights out here for Tuesday.  Dusty's ticket is a one way ticket and I will fly back two weeks later to switch with other family members and spend some time with my boys.  Ugh, even saying two weeks away from them hurts (both ways, two weeks away from Dusty and two weeks away from the boys).  I know Dusty is going to have a hard time with this.  I will do two weeks here, two weeks home, then drive to Houston for the last three weeks.  I'm not going to let him fly home and risk getting sick on the plane.

Periwinkle Blue

I ain't too proud to beg!

Okay, so I met a lady yesterday who has been surviving (we don't say battling) cancer for 8 years.  She is my new hero and mentor.  Becky, I'm eternally grateful for you.  I can't wait to be in a peaceful state of mind like you.  I will give the story of our meeting on another blog but she taught me to accept blessing for what they are, blessings.

This blog is a plead.  Everyone is wanting to help and I'm am not too proud to accept.  I need help.  Yes, my family is helping tremendously and everyone else who can, but it is a long, EXPENSIVE process.  We have two options as far as living arrangements:

1. There is a hotel ~3 stars within a mile of the hospital with a free shuttle all day back and forth to the hospital.  It will cost ~$4500 for the 6 weeks.  I'm not sure how clean they will keep the hotel and he will be very susceptible to sickness.

2. There is a hotel ~5 stars attached to the hospital with "cancer patient cleanliness".  It will cost ~$5500 for the 6 weeks.  Dusty will have to do blood work nightly and have his cell counts taken.  They offer this service at the hotel.  If he is too ill they can come to his room and administer some services.  It is more of a convince thing and a comfort.  There will be days where he will have appointments in the morning and appointments again in the afternoon.  Staying in the hospital he can come back to his room in-between and rest.  They have free shuttles to the Whole Foods and Target shopping center.  There is a restaurant in the hotel and many little market places in the hotel.  They also have a pool, spa, gym, and beauty shop.  It is a great place.  To me, the $1000 is worth the difference.  My Uncle Harland had cancer and didn't die from the cancer, he died from the infection that he got while his immune system was weakened.

Food is not included in the hotel.  So that is another expense.  Dusty will be on a strict diet, mostly expensive organic foods and I'm going to endure it along with him.  I won't eat a filet in front of him, while he sips on spinach smoothies!

Our airfare will be around $4200 total.

Plus, we have a mortgage back home, bills, and two children.

Anything will help.  I have over 1,000 views on this blog.  If each of you could donate a few dollars, it will add up.  PLEASE!

I ain't too proud to beg!

How we got to where we are now, Houston.

Okay, so the rest of the week we just finished Masters and had family discussions about treatment.  All of our doctors have said if we have the means to go to MD Anderson, we should.  It is the greatest cancer facility in the world.  They have cutting edge medicine that is not practiced anywhere else in the world.  They all said if it was them, their child, or their spouse they would be at MD Anderson.  We were worried about money of course but we need the best.  If Dusty were an old man and had lived a full life we would stay at home and fight at a local hospital and be satisfied.  But he is not.  He is young with a wife that CAN'T live without him and two boys that need him as much as they need food or water.  He has to beat this.  I'm not giving him the option.  Dr. Thaggard in San Antonio made some calls and got us in to see a gastro oncologist.  He is world renown and in the top ten doctors in the world (not nation, WORLD) for gastro oncology.  We met with him Monday morning in Houston and he said he wanted us to be treated here (Houston).  I asked if our doctor back home could follow his guidelines and we do the surgery (I'll get to that in a minute) in Houston.  He said, "No, no one in the country will give the amount of chemo and radiation that I will."  That scared the breath out of me.  give that amount?  what amount is that?  Does this mean he is going to pump him full of the highest amounts and make him glow?  But through talking it out we learned that no other facility can handle the recovery and support of a patient like MD Anderson.  Then, the doctor said, "MY CURE RATE IS DOUBLE WHAT ANY OTHER DOCTOR'S IS.  THERE IS ONE THAT IS CATCHING UP BUT MINE IS DOUBLE EVERYONE ELSES."  Done, sold, sign me up.  Here is my life, here is Dusty's life, tell us what you want.  At that moment we knew, we are moving to Houston.  Yes, we have kids back home (Augusta) but this is where they need us to be.  I am blessed with the best family and friends that have all stepped up to the plate and are helping out with the kids.  The kids are going to have a hard time with this and it is going to be rough but how rough will it be if we loose their daddy?  It is only 6 weeks.  We will do 6 weeks of intense chemo (weekly) and radiation (daily), then 6 weeks home to regain strength, then back to Houston for "the" surgery.  The surgery will be intense.  He will have an esophagectomy with stomach lift.  Basically meaning, they will remove the bottom portion (where the tumor is) of his esophagus and the upper portion of his stomach and pull his stomach up into his chest cavity and reconnect the two.  He will be in the ICU for three days, hospital for two weeks and recovery time will be 3-6 months.  He will be on a feeding tube and he will lose a lot of weight.  The doctor said he will be lucky to only lose 30 lbs.  It will be hard.  The radiation will burn his esophagus and he will be in a lot of pain swallowing.  He will need to drink protein shakes and be on a liquid diet.  It will be very hard.

What do you say to that?

Masters week was a blur so I can't put a day on it but one of the days during Masters week was the hardest day yet.  I took the boys to school before work.  I took Harland to his classroom first and then started to take Reynolds.  I noticed he started walking slowly and holding my hand tightly.  He wasn't acting right.  I asked what was wrong and her busted into tear.  "Oh no, what's wrong?"  He said, "I don't want to go in there?"  "Why?"  "Because they all know that my daddy is sick."  What do you say to that? My mind started racing and I had to choose my words carefully.  I quickly dropped to my knees and held him so tightly.  I didn't want him to see my face and hear the fear in my voice.  I took a quick breath and told him, "Daddy is going to be fine.  He is a little sick but he is strong.  Daddy is meeting with doctors and will be fine.  Just like when you get sick and have to go to the doctor's office daddy is the same."  He was shaking from crying and it broke my heart.  I think with the presence of people stopping by the house and Dusty and me crying frequently he put it together.  It was so hard to take him to school that day but I had to go to work.  Aaron picked him up early and hung out with him the rest of the day.  I love my neighbor Aaron Wells.  He is a great friend!

What is that?

I can't remember the date but we went to see the radiologist next.  We met with Dr. Howlington and his PA, Chris.  They are both great!  We loved them both.  Chris is awesome and talked about med school with Dusty and they got along great and cut up.  We were there to do a PET/CT scan to see if there were any metastasis and get a better look at the tumor.  Everybody was all smiles before the scan and after the scan everybody's demeanor changed.  This again?  Another unknown?  I'm so over this.  People knowing things we don't.  Dusty and the nurse started talking.  Dusty was rocking back and forth and he started getting nervous.  She asked if he was okay?  He said, "It is really hard to watch everyone joking and talking with me prior to a scan and afterwards everyone turn away from me and won't look me in the eyes."  She sat up quickly.  He said, "I know something must have shown up that you can't discuss with me."  She didn't say anything.  She just told us that we are strong and young and can fight.

They gave us a copy of the PET/CT scan on a CD for us to share with our doctor friend in San Antonio, TX, Dr. Thaggard.  Of course, I went home and immediately and threw the CD in my computer.  BAM!  There it was.  I saw it.  That little cylinder mass that has turned my world upside down.  I wanted to punch through the screen and rip it out myself.  I scrolled through each slide one by one and BAM again. What?  What is that?  This can't be.  The doctor didn't see this in the CT scan.  Could this possibly be another tumor?  There is was, another tumor in his lymph node.  It has spread.  Now, we are back to the unknowns.  Dusty and I kept saying, "We don't know what we're looking at.  We can't decide this.  It could be an organ or something else."  But in my mind I'm screaming!  I know this is another tumor.  They look exactly the same.  There is a section on the disc where you can put your cursor on the image and it shows another picture.  Both spots were "glowing".  They have to be the same thing.  Xanax!

You're young, you got this!

March 30.
We (Dusty, Dad, and Myself) went to Augusta Oncology Associates and met with a doctor.  He walked into the patient room and took a triple take at Dusty and the chart.  He said, "Wow, this doesn't happen in people your age."  Most people with esophageal cancer are in their 60s and 70s.  He immediately said, "You're young, you got this!  You can beat this.  You're young and I can treat you aggressively because you're strong."  I wanted to jump up and down and dance!  Then, he gave us the statistics.  Stage 0 80-90% survival.  Stage 1 80% survival.  Stage 2 27% survival.  What?  What?  What?  Where's the 60%, 50%, 40%?  It can't just jump from 80 to 27%.  But, then he said, you can't look at statistics with Dusty because the statistics are for 60 and 70 year old men.  Dusty is strong and can be aggressively treated.  Dusty asked about school.  He is in his last semester with two classes and is scheduled to graduate in four weeks.  The doctor kind of smirked and laughed under his breath.  That PISSED me off.  I thought he was thinking, "These kids need to get their priorities in order and not think about school but think about cancer."  We went along with our appointment.  Then, he mentioned his cancer.  That caught Dusty.  Dusty asked about it and he said he self diagnosed himself with cancer when he was in his first year of medical school.  He went through three years of Chemo and radiation while in school and graduated.  This put a fire under Dusty's ass!

Here, you talk!

Dr. Lal does not work on Mondays so we had to endure another painful day of no appetite and upset stomachs.  Xanax helped!  Work continued and I stayed busy.  My best friend Elaine was my rock.  She could see it in me that I was dying but she knew I needed to stay busy and not talk about it.  So we laughed and did our stupid things at work.  I had to deliver many lockboxes for houses that we rented so that kept me out of the office.  On Tuesday, Dusty and I knew that Dr Lal would be back in the office and should have the biopsy results back.  We said we wouldn't call and wait for him to call us.  I secretly called at 11:30 and left a message hoping he would get it at lunch and call back.  Little did I know, Dusty did the same!  We didn't get a call.  Aunt Donna and I went out to deliver lockboxes to houses.  We were on West Lake Drive and my phone rang, it was Dr. Lal.  I put it on speaker phone because I needed Aunt Donna to help me interpret everything I was about to hear.  If good news I would have all ears in; if bad news, I knew I was going to go away in my mind.  Dr. Lal said it did come back positive for cancer.  I felt like my eyes were having a seizure, they were just rocking back and forth trying to keep up with the thoughts that were running through my brain.  We asked many questions, of which I can't remember.  I started to feel sick so I floored it to my parent's house up the street.  I threw the phone to Aunt Donna, "Here, you talk!" and ran inside to get sick, very sick!  Dr. Lal asked a question and Aunt Donna said I had stepped away for a second and he said, "to go to the bathroom?"  I guess that is a common response to hearing the worse news of your life.  I came back and asked if he had talked to Dusty?  He said he couldn't reach him.  I told him to keep trying.  I didn't want to be the one to face Dusty and tell him he has esophageal cancer.

I knew Dusty was in West Lake delivering beds so I quickly took a route out of the neighborhood that he wouldn't be on.  I didn't want to face him in the condition I was in or without any answers.  Dr. Lal told me things but I couldn't tell you what they were if my life depended on it.

I went to my office and waited for Dusty.  The rest of this day is private.

So, we're here to look at your cancer?

We tried to go about our normal lives and focus on getting the prep hell done for the Masters.  Dr. Lal ordered us to do a CT scan on Friday, March 23.  His words to me, in that private room, on that awful day, were, "I want to do a CT scan tomorrow to see how deep it goes."  It?  What is "it" that he is talking about?  Was this his indication that "it" is cancer?  So, Dusty and I go Friday morning for the CT scan.  My dad, Rusty, (yes, I'm married to a Dusty and my dad's name is Rusty) and Dusty's mom, Sue, showed up to give us support.  Dusty went back to do the CT scan and we all three waited.  I remember Rachel Ray show was on and we tried to watch it and not talk too much about cancer but it was the elephant in the room.  My dad saw the nurse guiding Dusty to the bathroom and he looked sick and when he came out he looked like a ghost.  He was pale and sweaty.  He didn't look like himself at all.  His eyes were large and he look like he had just witnessed a child's murder.  We all got up and ran to him.  I kept asking what happened and what was wrong.  He didn't answer until we got out of the office and into the foyer of the large green glass building.  He said it was just the stuff he had to drink that made him sick but I didn't believe him.  I asked again.  He said, "When the nurse took him back and looked at his file she said, "So, we're here to look at your caner?  Esophageal cancer, right?"  Dusty said, "Wow, that is the first time anyone has called it that."  She quickly tried to cover her tracks.  But the damage was done.  Dusty got sick and couldn't recover.  He tried to keep a brave face for the three of us but he wasn't fooling anyone.  We knew.   We could see if all over him that he was like a scared man running through the woods being chased by a bear and now bleeding.....

Bear chasing you through the woods.

The next five days were brutal.  Brutal is an understatement.  We couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't even make eye contact.  If it weren't for having to feed the kids we wouldn't even think about food.  I lost 8 pounds in 5 days and Dusty had lost 15 pounds.  It was melting off of him.  Dr. Singhal called us in a very low dose of Xanax to help with our nerves.  It helped so much.  Not only were we stressing out every time the phone rang thinking it was bad news from the doctor; we had Masters week in less than one week.  It was hectic and stressful.  Getting through the day was difficult but work helped keep my mind off of things.  Night time was hard. Laying in bed was awkward.  It is hard to understand how laying in bed with the man you have been laying in bed with for eight year was awkward, but it was.  Him holding me was in a different manner of love it was more of a manner of support.  Dusty said he felt like he was being chased in the woods by a bear and there was nothing he could do about it.

I mean, can you give me a percentage?

On March 22 Dusty had his endoscopy with Dr. Lal.  The nurse told me it would be about 30 minutes and not to go far.  So, I went to get a cup of coffee and came back.  There were two other ladies in the waiting room.  Both got there after me and both got called back to see their person before me.  After an hour and ten minutes, I started to worry.  I rang the doorbell and the nurse came to the door.  She said the doctor is getting ready to come get me.  So, I waited.  Dr. Lal came out and asked me to follow him.  I thought it was weird that he came to get me instead of a nurse.  There was a large horizontal room to my right with large double door openings.  There were three patients in recovery, the last bed was Dusty.  I looked at him and tried to vier that way but the doctor told me to follow him.  We walked down a long hallway and he asked a nurse what room he could talk to me in private.  My heart started to race.  I quickly sat down (maybe my knees gave out, not quite sure) and he said, "It doesn't look good."  What? What does that mean?  I'm so confused.  What just happened?  How can this be?  Is he going to be okay?  What does "not look good mean?  My mind was going a hundred ways.  I'm not sure if the doctor even talked for five minutes.  Maybe he was silent because my face said I wasn't there.  Not sure?  But, I came to and took a breath.  He said there was a spot that looked bad and he did a number of biopsies.  I asked if he was talking about cancer.  He said he couldn't give me that answer yet.  I felt hot and faint, took another breath and came back.  He said it didn't look good (again).  He said, "I've seen worse that wasn't and better that was."  I asked what he thought and he wouldn't give me that.  I fished as much as I could and he wouldn't bite.  I wanted the answer.  I needed the answer.  I just needed him to say, "I don't think it is cancer."  I didn't get that.  So, again, I fished.  I said, "I mean, can you give me a percentage?  Do you think it is 40% cancer, 80% cancer?  What is your gut feeling?"  NOTHING.  I got nothing from him.  I know he has to be medically (politically) correct and he was.  He didn't want to say the words until we had the biopsy results.

But, don't get me wrong, I love Dr. Lal.  He is amazing!  Absolutely, amazing.  His bedside manner is awesome and he is easy on the eyes :).  He is a great doctor.  It just made me very frustrated to have the weight of the world bearing down on me and no answers.  He put me back into the hallway so he could talk to Dusty.  This time walking past that long horizontal room I didn't glance over at Dusty, knowing if we made eye contact I would collapse.  In the waiting room I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't sit there with other people because I was hysterical.  I went through two swinging doors into the service elevator area and hit my knees.  I prayed.  I prayed so hard it came out of every pore in my body.  I just rocked back and forth and begged.  Begged for ANYTHING.  Give me answers.  Help me understand.  Make me strong.  Heal him.  Please God heal him.  I asked for everything.  I finally composed myself to make a call.  Who do I call?  Courtney!  I called Courtney and told her what the doctor had said.  I begged her not to tell anyone.  I didn't want to spread the word until we knew the answers.

Now, it was time to face Dusty.  I tried to stay strong.  I tried to be there for Dusty but inside I felt like the patient, like I needed Dusty to heal me.  How was I going to take care of someone that always took care of me?  I turned the corner and Dusty gave me the bravest face.  He asked me if I was okay.  Always taking care of me!  I just shook my head, yes.  I knew if I opened my mouth I would either scream or vomit.

Where our fight began...

Dusty has been living with acid reflux since he was 13.  He has taken everything over and behind the counter to help with heartburn and acid reflux.  It has gotten worse over the years but medicine has gotten better and he has maintained it pretty well.  In November he was job shadowing a cardiologist and told him of his chest pains.  Dusty would wake up about once and week and say he felt like he was having a heart attack.  He had the stress test and EKG done at the Cardio Center and everything was fine.  The PA, Steve, told Dusty he thought he should have an endoscopy done.  Our primary doctor, Dr. Singhal, also requested Dusty get the endoscopy done.  But, Dusty and I wanted to wait until January to start working towards our insurance deductible for 2012.  Well, 2012 rolled around and life is busy.  Dusty has a lot going on with it being his last semester of college and we are busy with the boys and I with work.  We kept putting it off.  Damn us!  In March Dusty had gained about 25 lbs in a few weeks and had a mass on his side so we went to see Dr. Singhal.  She ordered a CT scan.  It came back that his gallbladder was only operating at 2% and needed to be removed.  She sent us to Doctors Hospital and we had it removed on March 23.  Dusty did fine with the surgery but the pain was still there.  He had a lot of pain that came on quickly after the gallbladder surgery.  On Monday he called Dr. Singhal and told her of the pain.  She immediately got us in to see Dr. Lal for an endoscopy.  And here it starts...