Took King to see the oncologist this morning. We’re going to try chemo.
Without treatment, the prognosis was about 2 months, give or take. If treatment successfully holds things at bay, we could stretch things out as far as 6-8 months, with 6 months being the usual length of survival with successful treatment. There’s always the chance that the two drugs we will be using–tablets, given on alternate days–may sicken King or not help. We will be monitoring, and will revisit if issues occur.
I have to at least try.
The surgeon cleared KIng for his usual activities–no more movement or Gaby restrictions. I also was cleared to resume his gall bladder and thyroid meds. The surgeon thought that holding off on the thyroid med might have led to King’s lack of energy, at least in part. I dosed him when we got home, and within a few hours he was pretty much his old self. I don’t know whether that was the sole reason for his perking up, but I’ll take it. At least that was something I could fix.
I spent the rest of the day running around like an idiot. Picking up King’s meds. Grocery shopping. I also wanted something decorative for the outside to celebrate fall, but dammit it’s all Christmas stuff already. I didn’t want a pot o’ mums, because they could die if we get hit with frost. I finally managed to find a wibble-wobble metal scarecrow that I can stick in the planter. He’ll hold the fort until the day after Thanksgiving, which is the soonest that I would put out the reindeer, penguin, etc.
I just want to get through this year. Everything else is gravy.