Month: September 2016

Comment faire?

How do we do it?

I was terrible French student – no fault of Mrs. Reynolds. Took it mainly because there was a pretty girl in the class. Story of my life, yeah?

When I could actually speak it (and I no longer can), there was one song I enjoyed above all others, the Les Miserables song, Demain.

It starts like this, with the rather inelegant translation, following:

Comment faire
Verrai-je un jour la fin de ce calvaire
Vivrons-nous libres enfin et sans mystère
Sans avoir à trembler sans cesse

How do we do it?
Will I see one day the end of this quest?
Will we finally live free and without mystery?
Without having to constantly be afraid?

And ends like this:

il me faut protéger sa vie
demain nous partons loin d’ici
Demain sera pour tous un lendemain
qui ne peut pas mentir
c’est demain que chancun connaîtra son destin
demain . . . demain . . . demain.

I must protect her life
Tomorrow we go far away from here
Tomorrow will be a new day
that will be the truth
It’s tomorrow that each will know his/her destiny
Tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . . tomorrow.

We came back from the hospital earlier this week. Just like with the other extended emergency room stay, they were unable to figure out why her lab results were so bad.

Also like before, we left because her staying there was just making her worse. The surgery that we were hoping would fix a few things, didn’t. But I’m still glad we did it because, cosmetically, it made her look like the old her. So that’s something positive.

And now, like before and always, we try to figure how how we do everything we need to do to make it to tomorrow.

Me: How are you feeling?
Her: Tired. But glad to be home.
Me: Me too.

\’

Location: home, after two weeks
Mood: tired
Music: mon sang se glace dans mes veines

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Tags cancer, family

personal

One more surgery down, one more cancelled

Post author By Logan Lo
Post date 2016/09/20
4 Comments on One more surgery down, one more cancelled

Just waiting for some improvement

She survived the last surgery a-ok. But, like always, it’s the recovery that eludes us.

She was actually scheduled for surgery eight today but it was cancelled at the last minute again because the doc wanted to give the last surgery a little more time.

The problem is that it’s been over a week and there’s been no change. The last, 7th, surgery was supposed to fix something with her but it didn’t. And this latest surgery was cancelled. So we continue to wait.

She sleeps most of the time. I sit with her most days in the hospital. She hasn’t improved at all so we’re still in the ICU, which is upsetting. Yet she continues to inspire me.

In the meanwhile, the boy has started to crawl. And neither his mother nor I were around to see it. It’s the little things we miss that hurt the most, I think.

Did find a moment to bring him to see his grandparents out in Queens over the weekend. That was the one bright spot in an otherwise dark week.

Dad: He looks just like you when you were a kid.
Me: Thanks.
Dad: So fat. Soooooo fat. Look at those legs!
Me: Thanks, dad.

\’

Location: her bedside
Mood: weathered
Music: Command me to be well

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Tags cancer, family

personal

Dreaming of a Holiday in Spain

Post author By Logan Lo
Post date 2016/09/14
2 Comments on Dreaming of a Holiday in Spain

Surgery seven

She went to the ER for the eleventh time last week and has been there ever since.

Yesterday, she had a surgery to replace the titanium mesh that was put on way back in Dec to replace her skull. Essentially, it was failing, causing her to have a lot of nausea and more weight loss.

The mesh was always supposed to be temporary; when Alison collapsed, she was only an hour from death. They had to remove her skull to keep the pressure from killing her. The mesh was put in place so that she didn’t have to have the further indignity of having to wear a helmet all the time.

But she didn’t look like her. It looked as if someone had taken a swing at her with a baseball bat. In time, we all got used to it but I did think that, if nothing else, after this surgery, it would be nice to see more of the old her.

Couldn’t handle the thought of her going through yet another surgery so I walked outta the hospital and ended up at the Met.

The last time I was there, was single, childless, and not sleeping. Now, I’m married, with a kid, and not sleeping.

And the last museum I went to was with Alison.

Sighed, shelled out a few bucks for a ticket, and kinda just walked around in a daze.

Ended up at the Arms and Armor section. Never told you exactly what type of fencing I do, did I?

It’s Filipino fencing with a dash of Spanish rapier and dagger. Thought about our last trip to Spain. We always said that we’d take a trip to Toledo in Spain, the home of Spain’s greatest swordsmiths.

As you see, everything reminded me of her so I left and walked back. Didn’t get a call about the operation so I assumed that no news was good news.

When I got back, they told me that the operation was a success although that old blood issue has cropped up again with another new issue.

They’re going to keep her for a while to make sure that everything is ok. Of course, this means that I can’t do any of the experimental cancer treatments we’ve been doing.

So we wait. Like always.

And I dream of a holiday in Spain with her and my son.

\’

Location: not Spain
Mood: worried
Music: we could simply pack our bags and catch a plane to Barcelona ’cause this city’s a drag

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Tags family, photography, travelogue

personal

Just a cruel tease

Another surgery

Me: Can I tell you a joke?
Her: (nods)

Alison’s not doing great. Thought we had made a major turn for the better the other day but it was just a cruel tease.

She’s sleeping all the time again and can’t seem to keep any food down. She lost several pounds that we struggled to put on. The doctors want to operate on her yet again – and the expectation is that it means a minimum of three months that we can’t do any of the treatments we’ve been doing that might have caused some of the cancer shrinkage in the first place.

After a lot of soul searching, we’re back in the hospital at some point this month for surgery number seven.

Would do anything to take this burden from her.

It’s maddening. Every time we think we’re moving forward, we’re reminded of just what a beast this cancer is.

There’s one treatment left that we can still do while we wait for this surgery. It involves her breathing in a medication that burns like hell through a mask. Four times a day. So I try to help her pass the time as best I can.

Me: OK, so a teacher asked her class to make sentences using the word “beans.” One student says, “My father grows beans.” Another said, “I eat beans.” Then teacher turned to a little girl who thought for a second and said: “We’re all human beans.”
Her: (smiles)
Me: Well, if nothing else, you can’t divorce me.
Her: (through mask) I would never.
Me: Good. (quietly) Don’t ever leave me.

\’

Location: this side of hell
Mood: crushed
Music: it’s not so tragic, if I don’t look down

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Tags cancer