Friday, 2/4 -- Another stay in the hospital. -- Hey, where did that gorilla come from?

From Tuesday until late Thursday evening I had another unpleasant stay in the hospital.

The chemo drugs had beaten me down hard enough that I presented myself as a very sick person to the doctors. They admitted me to the hospital for many reasons.
My blood levels had dropped.
I was physically weaker than I should have been.
Hard, deep cough.
Out of breath while sitting still.
Back pain increased and more constant.
Numbness in limbs.
And so much more!

I went for an immediate CAT Scan to make sure I didn't have blood clots in my lungs or pneumonia. That came back negative. Since they had the new scans they did a new evaluation of my disease.

The results showed that the chemo had no effect, positive or negative, against the cancer.

To help my physical symptoms they increased my steroids.
I also got two units of blood. That's a new one. I was able to avoid it in the past, but I'm now at the point where I can't avoid these things. It freaked me out, but I've been through so much it seemed silly to object.

So where is all this going? What's the plan?
I've been receiving chemotherapy since July. That's over 7 months of harsh, poisonous chemicals being injected into my body. It's medicine, but it's not good medicine. The human body can only tolerate so much poison before it becomes permanently damaging. More drugs would do only harm.

The body can only take so much disease before it gives out too. Same concept.

We're using this week to see how I respond to not having chemo drugs in my system. If I get strong again, we can possibly start a different set of drugs. (I insisted that we not use these past drugs again, and my doctor agreed.)

If my condition continues to be poor, or worsens... then that could be a sign that I can't take any more chemo.

Yes, that means what you think it means.
Let me introduce you to the 600 pound gorilla that's been sitting in the room that no one has been talking about.
We could be near the "cross roads" where they can't do anything more for me.

It's not a fact.
It's not the current decision.
It's not the current plan.
It's not yet reality.
But the concept is now on the table.

I'm still staying positive and aggressive. Nothing has changed. I'm not giving anything up. I'm not giving in a single inch.

My medical team is not giving up on anything either. We're all fighting this together. I know they care about me more than their average patient. I can see it in their eyes when we talk. I am special to them. But they have to keep the reality of the situation in focus, and advise me appropriately. That's their job, after all.

We, with your help, will continue to fight this deadly disease with everything we can muster. Our goal is to win.

However, the 600 pound gorilla is here and we can't ignore him any longer. Despite all our best efforts, I may not die of old age.

The only thing in the world to blame for that is cancer. Nothing else is to blame.

It's been a shitty, shitty week.