My Hardest Post

I've been working on this post for days. Typing it, deleting it, reworking it...

It's not gotten any easier.

I've had so much I've wanted to write, and quite frankly, it's just been too difficult to write this post, thus making the others not worth writing.


Prologue

The last few days of our leave, Leesh started having some real difficulties. Dizziness, walking, nausea, balance, numbness in arms and legs... all of these were problems she was having. We figured that she'd perhaps overdone it on the vacation, or twisted something. Either way, to be sure, I made an appointment for the first thing Monday after we got back (It meant being on the phone at 0400 in the States to do it, but it seemed important. I take no chances.)

We made our sojourn back to Germany (an ordeal I do not want to endure again anytime soon, thankyouverymuch...). Settled in... and on Monday (28 August), off she went to her appointment and I back to work.

The doc at our local clinic diagnosed it as a likely pinched nerve and several days rest and elevated foot would make things better.

Sounds reasonable, so we went with it.

Tuesday, we went to a previously scheduled appointment with our wonderful cancer doctor. Now, he wasn't aware of the developments during the leave, or since the last checkup, but he had gotten a heads-up through our liaison. Anyway, we did an examination...

I have had this recurring thought that I remember when Ellicia and I would sit and stare at the ultrasound displays, looking through the confusing swirls and shadows for the distinctive baby parts and looking for the movement and sharing the joy of the new life that we created and is growing inside her body. These days, we sit in the same type rooms, using the very same machines, staring at the same swirls... trying to make out the signs of the masses from the disease that is destroying her from the inside... hoping not to see anything, hoping with the same fervency that the doctor (who somehow knows what all those shapes and shadows are) will give us good news.

Anyway, we confirmed the tumor in her breast has returned, as we already knew - but now the Doc knows it, too. With this knowledge, we all quickly agreed that the smartest course of action would be to proceed to surgery the next week. It would be either a partial or full mastectomy, determined by some biopsy core samples he extracted that day, but irregardless, surgery would be needed. So, sometime Wednesday or Thursday the next week, we would have surgery.

It's the smartest choice, really. Go ahead and remove the source of the tumor. Obviously, it's come back, and it's smart to try to take it all off. Less risk of missing a cancer cell.

You see, the best analogy we've come up for cancer is that it's like Kudzu. If you don't kill each and every single cancer cell, then you haven't accomplished a thing.

Obviously, even though we'd all thought the cancer was gone through successful treatment, the re-emergence of the tumor means that it's not, nor was it ever, gone.



On Wednesday, Leesh was still feeling the effects of numbness, difficulty walking, nausea at all hours, and dizziness, so she went back to the clinic. Due to what we think of as the clinic's fear of making any further errors with her, the doctor this time referred her to a neurologist. Even though it's a busy time for the unit and I was really needed, we scheduled it for the next day... Thursday.


Thursday
After depositing the children at all the various points around post, we headed off to Nurenburg for our appointment. We figured we'd be there a couple of hours, some quick tests, and we'll be back home... even in time for me to go back to work. My uniform was in the back of the car, for this purpose.

We arrive and are quickly seen. We've brought all of our old x-rays, MRIs, and even her entire medical file. Believe it or not, we actually travel with these items now.

We went through just about every kind of test and machine that he had in his office. We tried coordination tests, tests like a Field Sobriety test, electrodes on her head, and even more ultrasounds. Ultrasounds of the head, neck, eyes, etc. And then, they did a new MRI.



The News

The doctor spoke very good English, and he told us that all of his tests had come out negative for any problems. And he believed that she really was having these problems. He showed us the MRI of her head. And then he showed us the tumors.

The breast cancer has metastisized to her brain. There are tumors in her brain. Brain cancer.

The neurologist contacted our cancer doctor, who was attending a cancer conference. He rescheduled the mastectomy to this Tuesday, with her checking-in to the hospital on Monday.

We drove home... numb, but with things we had to do.


Friday, we went back for more tests. We had x-rays, and another MRI, this time of the spine.

I suppose one sign of the seriousness was that when it was all over, we were sent back to the neurologist, where with a waiting room full of people, and us with no appointment, we were led directly into his office.

The news is this. There are eleven tumors in her brain. If you were to divide her brain into quadrants, then at least two of the tumors would be as large as the quadrant. There are also metastatic tumors in her lungs (again).

So, we have breast cancer, lung cancer, and brain cancer. And like the neurologist told us, while the situation is not hopeless, it is extremely serious. If we do nothing at all, she likely has no more than a few months.



What Now?

What now... That's the question we've been facing for the last several days. We've come to the acceptance that within a year, I'll likely be a single father. By acceptance, I don't mean to imply happiness or anything like that. More like many, many tears.

We have cried a lot. All of our hopes, dreams, and plans... well, those seem out the window now.

Everything we do now is seen through the prism of the cancer. Wondering what we can do to preserve her for the children. Crying over how young the children are and if they'll remember her.

It's been a long weekend. We're getting ready for her surgery.

My unit has been extremely supportive. My 1SG is amazing, and as my Commander spelled out to me, my place of duty is my family. The rest of the chain of command, likewise.

And now, we just try to go day by day.