We went back to see Dr. Schlabach. Ken described his symptoms and Dr. S. did blood work and a physical exam. He said Ken would need a new CT. So, off to the imaging center we went–AGAIN. I had learned after the first CT that Ken could NOT drink two glasses of that gloppy stuff if he wanted to. So I had to take a syringe and push it through his feeding tube. If you’ve never been to an imaging center before, they have a main waiting room where everybody waits and then they have a couple of more private waiting rooms where you wait once you have changed into one of those lovely hospital gowns. Only problem is, they have one private waiting room for women and another private waiting room for men. There was not a place where Ken and I could go in private where I could push the stuff through his feeding tube. We couldn’t do it in the main waiting room, not only for sanitary reasons, but because it would have grossed other people out. We always ended up in the men’s private waiting room. We always had to apologize to the other guys who were waiting and for the most part, they were always gracious and accommodating. I could tell, though, some of them were a little uncomfortable with me in there while they waited in their states of undress.
We went back to see Dr. S. a couple of days later. He said the CT was “unchanged”. “Well,” I said, “I guess that’s good news, but Ken is still hurting. What now?” Dr. S. said that we would need to go back to the gastroenterologist for a new endoscopy. So, his nurse called and got us an appointment for that. The gastroenterologist’s office was all the way over in North Chattanooga and they could schedule the scope quicker at the hospital over there, so that’s where we went. There I was, again, in a waiting room while Ken was having an endoscopy done. That was the type of scope he had the day we first found out he had cancer. I was nervous–to the point of tears–but I was determined to keep myself together for Ken’s sake. When the scope was over, the Dr. (I wonder why I can’t remember his name) came out and said that he didn’t see any new cancer, but that he had taken biopsies again and he would call Dr. Schlabach with the results. We went home to wait–AGAIN.
A couple of days after that, Dr. Schlabach’s nurse called to tell us that the endoscopy and biopsies did not indicate the presence of any new cancer. What should have been cause for relief was rapidly becoming cause for frustration. Everybody was saying there was no new cancer, but Ken was hurting worse every day. I told the nurse that I was glad to hear positive results from the endoscopy, but that there was SOMETHING WRONG with Ken. She told me we could come back in and talk to Dr. S. again and see what his recommendation would be now.
Back we went to Dr. Schlabach’s office. Ken was having such trouble walking, that I was having to let him out at the door of the Medical Mall so he could sit down on a bench and wait until I was able to park the car. I think I even borrowed one of the hospital’s wheelchairs that day so Ken could ride up. When Dr. S. came in, he patiently went back over all of Ken’s results. He said that there was no indication of new cancer. I said, “It is his back that is hurting. Maybe we should have a bone scan.” Dr. S. replied, “It is very rare that Ken’s kind of cancer would go to bone.” “Okay”, I countered, “then why is Ken’s back hurting and why can’t he bear weight on his left leg?” Dr. S. said it was probably residual weakness from the chemo and radiation. I said, “Shouldn’t we do a bone scan to make sure that’s all it is?” He said (AGAIN!!!), “It’s just so rare for this type of cancer to metastasize (spread) to the bones.” He then went on to say that bone scans are very expensive tests and he knows how much we’ve spent already.
By this time, I was about ready to scream. I looked over at Ken’s pained, sunken eyes. Then I looked straight in the doctor’s face and said, as calmly as I could manage, “Dr. Schlabach, there is something wrong with my husband. I think we need a bone scan. Now, I am a large woman–it would probably take three or four men to move me. But I am NOT going to take one step out of this office until you schedule Ken for a bone scan!” He smiled (I guess he thought I was playing, but I absolutely was not) and said, “Okay, I’ll tell the nurse to schedule it if it will put your mind at ease.” We left the office with an order and appointment for a bone scan.
"Hollow-Eyed Look"
The first time I noticed the “hollow-eyed look” on Ken’s face again, I was sure I had imagined it. It was during Easter drama rehearsal and the lighting was all different, so I attributed the shadows to that. I put it out of my mind until a couple of days later, when I noticed it again, while we were at home. I asked Ken if he was feeling okay that day. He said, “Yes”, but the “hollow-eyed look” was definitely there. I didn’t want to end up in full-scale panic mode, but I was definitely concerned.
I started watching Ken more closely than I had in the past few months, trying to see if any old symptoms returned or any new symptoms developed. For the most part, it was only the “hollow-eyed look”. I kept attributing it to him being overly tired, but I was really worried. I remember on Easter Sunday, we went to Mama & Daddy’s house like we always did. I was in the kitchen and Ken was sitting on the couch in the living room. I called Mama over and said, “Mama, look at Ken’s face. He’s sick again, isn’t he?” I don’t recall if she agreed with me, but I think she said that he looked tired. In truth, I didn’t need her to agree with me. Deep in the pit of my soul I knew the cancer was back. I guess I just needed to say it out loud so that I could begin to deal with it.
Ken kept assuring me that he was fine. He had just been working too hard on his rental properties and was tired. I would nod my head at him and go scream into my pillow. Then one day, Ken began to limp. Just a slight limp at first, hardly noticeable. I didn’t want to pester him about it, so I let it go for about a week. The limp was getting progressively more pronounced. Trying for an air of nonchalance, I said, “Baby, why are you limping?” Ken replied, “Well, my back has been hurting. I’m having a hard time putting weight on my left leg.” (Room starts swirling, but I’m still trying to be calm.) “How long has it been hurting?” I asked. “Quite a while,” he admitted, “been getting worse and worse”. (Trying to take looong, slow breaths now, so as not to hyperventilate.) “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if I called the Dr. and got you an appointment in the next couple of days?” I asked, never expecting him to agree. “Yeah”, he said, “probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Then we just kind of looked at each other in silence for a little bit. I think what wasn’t spoken between us that day screamed way louder than what we actually did say. I called Dr. Schlabach’s office and they told us to come in the next week. Here we go again...
I started watching Ken more closely than I had in the past few months, trying to see if any old symptoms returned or any new symptoms developed. For the most part, it was only the “hollow-eyed look”. I kept attributing it to him being overly tired, but I was really worried. I remember on Easter Sunday, we went to Mama & Daddy’s house like we always did. I was in the kitchen and Ken was sitting on the couch in the living room. I called Mama over and said, “Mama, look at Ken’s face. He’s sick again, isn’t he?” I don’t recall if she agreed with me, but I think she said that he looked tired. In truth, I didn’t need her to agree with me. Deep in the pit of my soul I knew the cancer was back. I guess I just needed to say it out loud so that I could begin to deal with it.
Ken kept assuring me that he was fine. He had just been working too hard on his rental properties and was tired. I would nod my head at him and go scream into my pillow. Then one day, Ken began to limp. Just a slight limp at first, hardly noticeable. I didn’t want to pester him about it, so I let it go for about a week. The limp was getting progressively more pronounced. Trying for an air of nonchalance, I said, “Baby, why are you limping?” Ken replied, “Well, my back has been hurting. I’m having a hard time putting weight on my left leg.” (Room starts swirling, but I’m still trying to be calm.) “How long has it been hurting?” I asked. “Quite a while,” he admitted, “been getting worse and worse”. (Trying to take looong, slow breaths now, so as not to hyperventilate.) “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if I called the Dr. and got you an appointment in the next couple of days?” I asked, never expecting him to agree. “Yeah”, he said, “probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Then we just kind of looked at each other in silence for a little bit. I think what wasn’t spoken between us that day screamed way louder than what we actually did say. I called Dr. Schlabach’s office and they told us to come in the next week. Here we go again...
Living Life
Over the next several months, things were pretty calm. The boys were in school, Ken was working at his rental business some and I was volunteering at Boynton’s Media Center. Every so often, we’d make a trip to Erlanger for blood work, or a check up for Ken, but for at least a little while, we existed much as we had before Ken got sick.
In the fall, we were even able to take a family vacation with Mama, & Daddy and David and his family. We went to Gulf Shores, AL. Of course, before we could agree to go, I had to check out the area and make sure that there was a hospital in the area that could offer the level of care Ken would require if something unforeseen were to happen. There was one in Foley, which was just up the road from Gulf Shores. So, we packed all of our stuff, which now included “Bill” and all of his paraphernalia, plus I think 3 cases of liquid nutrition, and headed down the road.
I can’t say that it was the most pleasant vacation I’ve ever had. It was nice to get away, don’t get me wrong. The beach was lovely and the weather was beautiful. And it should have been great spending time with my family, but somehow, it just didn’t turn out that way. I won’t go into detail, but let me just say that it was during that week that we discovered much about the TRUE unpleasant nature and disposition of a certain family member. I think by the time the week was up, even my sweet, even-tempered Daddy was ready to cuss. Unfortunately, the behavior of that week was a harbinger of more heartaches to come. We did, by the way, end up at the hospital in Foley that week, but it wasn’t for Ken. David had a kidney stone. What a way to spend a vacation!
Christmas came and went without incident. We welcomed 2004 with more peace and hope than we had 2003. Ken had done so much better than his doctors ever thought he would, it was easy to believe that life could just continue this peacefully for the next 40 years or so.
Come springtime, Ken was asked to portray Jesus in our church’s Easter production. He had been asked to be Jesus before, at our previous church too. When he had his hair and his beard, he sort of had a “Jesus-look” going on. The boys were both in the production too, and I was helping out behind the scenes, so we were all busy. We had to modify the play to exclude the crucifixion scene. With his feeding tube, Ken couldn’t be shirtless (didn’t bother us-we were used to it, but the tube sort of freaked other people out), and I was worried that he didn’t have enough strength left in his torso to be lifted up onto a cross. So, the lights cut out as the soldiers were taking Jesus away. Ken didn’t appear again until he appeared as Jesus resurrected. It was very touching. Even though I was behind the stage and didn’t get to see it directly, I remember what a moving experience it was. When it was over, I sobbed into my hands as Keith told the audience what a miracle it was that the man who portrayed Jesus on that day had been told the year before that he would die within weeks. God had graciously given Ken another year and several months. What better way to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord than with our very own miracle?
Yes, it was truly a miracle. I believed it then and I believe it to this day, with my whole heart. But some of my sobs on that Easter Sunday were coming from another place entirely. Just that week, during the drama rehearsals, I was stunned to see the “hollow-eyed look” creeping back into my sweet husband’s face.
In the fall, we were even able to take a family vacation with Mama, & Daddy and David and his family. We went to Gulf Shores, AL. Of course, before we could agree to go, I had to check out the area and make sure that there was a hospital in the area that could offer the level of care Ken would require if something unforeseen were to happen. There was one in Foley, which was just up the road from Gulf Shores. So, we packed all of our stuff, which now included “Bill” and all of his paraphernalia, plus I think 3 cases of liquid nutrition, and headed down the road.
I can’t say that it was the most pleasant vacation I’ve ever had. It was nice to get away, don’t get me wrong. The beach was lovely and the weather was beautiful. And it should have been great spending time with my family, but somehow, it just didn’t turn out that way. I won’t go into detail, but let me just say that it was during that week that we discovered much about the TRUE unpleasant nature and disposition of a certain family member. I think by the time the week was up, even my sweet, even-tempered Daddy was ready to cuss. Unfortunately, the behavior of that week was a harbinger of more heartaches to come. We did, by the way, end up at the hospital in Foley that week, but it wasn’t for Ken. David had a kidney stone. What a way to spend a vacation!
Christmas came and went without incident. We welcomed 2004 with more peace and hope than we had 2003. Ken had done so much better than his doctors ever thought he would, it was easy to believe that life could just continue this peacefully for the next 40 years or so.
Come springtime, Ken was asked to portray Jesus in our church’s Easter production. He had been asked to be Jesus before, at our previous church too. When he had his hair and his beard, he sort of had a “Jesus-look” going on. The boys were both in the production too, and I was helping out behind the scenes, so we were all busy. We had to modify the play to exclude the crucifixion scene. With his feeding tube, Ken couldn’t be shirtless (didn’t bother us-we were used to it, but the tube sort of freaked other people out), and I was worried that he didn’t have enough strength left in his torso to be lifted up onto a cross. So, the lights cut out as the soldiers were taking Jesus away. Ken didn’t appear again until he appeared as Jesus resurrected. It was very touching. Even though I was behind the stage and didn’t get to see it directly, I remember what a moving experience it was. When it was over, I sobbed into my hands as Keith told the audience what a miracle it was that the man who portrayed Jesus on that day had been told the year before that he would die within weeks. God had graciously given Ken another year and several months. What better way to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord than with our very own miracle?
Yes, it was truly a miracle. I believed it then and I believe it to this day, with my whole heart. But some of my sobs on that Easter Sunday were coming from another place entirely. Just that week, during the drama rehearsals, I was stunned to see the “hollow-eyed look” creeping back into my sweet husband’s face.
Holding My Breath
After Ken recovered from being so sick from the radiation, he went several months with no significant changes. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that he had a six-inch-long tube protruding from his abdomen and the nightly tube feedings, you wouldn’t know there was anything wrong with him at all. He began taking back over more and more of his rental business from his sister. Things calmed down a few notches and life almost went back to “normal”.
Ken was doing so well, in fact, that I briefly considered going back to work. I had quit my job at the Pre-K the day he was diagnosed. My "job" had become looking after Ken and doing everything I could to keep him as healthy as I could for as long as I could. When he started going “back to work”, and we didn’t have weekly trips to Erlanger Hospital, it kind of left me twiddling my thumbs. I started looking at the want ads to see if I could find anything close by, but I had a niggling little feeling way down deep in my soul that told me “not yet”. So, I prayed about it and felt like God was telling me not to start anything new.
I had been a parent volunteer at Boynton Elementary almost as long as the boys had been going there and had been helping out whenever Ken wasn’t so bad off. I decided I would just continue doing that, only now on a more regular basis. So, I started working in the Media Center every afternoon from about noon until school dismissed. That way I could be there when Benjamin got out and then we could jump in the car and make it across town in just enough time to pick up Jesse at the middle school.
That’s how things went for the next several months. I SOOO wanted to believe that it would continue this way and that Ken would be well again. And I tried believing it–truly I did. But I always felt like I was walking around on my tiptoes, holding my breath, gritting my teeth...waiting for something else horrible to occur. I began to wonder if Ken’s family member had been right when she said I didn’t have enough faith. I really struggled with it and prayed over and over that God would give me some peace. And no matter how many times I prayed that prayer, He always told me the same thing... “You need to get ready”.
“Ready for WHAT?” I would cry. “You need to get ready”, was all He ever said.
Ken was doing so well, in fact, that I briefly considered going back to work. I had quit my job at the Pre-K the day he was diagnosed. My "job" had become looking after Ken and doing everything I could to keep him as healthy as I could for as long as I could. When he started going “back to work”, and we didn’t have weekly trips to Erlanger Hospital, it kind of left me twiddling my thumbs. I started looking at the want ads to see if I could find anything close by, but I had a niggling little feeling way down deep in my soul that told me “not yet”. So, I prayed about it and felt like God was telling me not to start anything new.
I had been a parent volunteer at Boynton Elementary almost as long as the boys had been going there and had been helping out whenever Ken wasn’t so bad off. I decided I would just continue doing that, only now on a more regular basis. So, I started working in the Media Center every afternoon from about noon until school dismissed. That way I could be there when Benjamin got out and then we could jump in the car and make it across town in just enough time to pick up Jesse at the middle school.
That’s how things went for the next several months. I SOOO wanted to believe that it would continue this way and that Ken would be well again. And I tried believing it–truly I did. But I always felt like I was walking around on my tiptoes, holding my breath, gritting my teeth...waiting for something else horrible to occur. I began to wonder if Ken’s family member had been right when she said I didn’t have enough faith. I really struggled with it and prayed over and over that God would give me some peace. And no matter how many times I prayed that prayer, He always told me the same thing... “You need to get ready”.
“Ready for WHAT?” I would cry. “You need to get ready”, was all He ever said.
"You don't have enough faith!"
Ken’s one-month appointment showed no changes, so Dr. Schlabach told us Ken didn’t have to come back for three months. He wouldn’t say the R-Word (remission), but he did say “things look good” (whatever the heck THAT was supposed to mean). Dr. S. went on to say that Ken could do whatever he felt like doing, but not to overdo.
Three months came and went and Ken went back to see Dr. Schlabach. None of the tests/scans/scopes they did showed any sign of cancer. Dr. S. shook his head and said, “Ken, there is no medical reason that you should still be here.” I replied, “That’s because the reason he’s still here is NOT medical. It is a God thing.” The Dr. agreed and told us to come back three months later.
We entered into a time of being almost “normal”. Ken felt much stronger and was able to get out and piddle around a little with his rental properties. We were able to get a portable feeding pump (“Baby Bill”) which Ken could wear in a backpack, so we were able to go more places. He started taking the boys to “camp out” in his van so they could sell stuff at the Flea Market down in Dalton. Jesse and Benjamin loved that. They still talk about sleeping in the van, talking to their Dad through the night. I’m glad they have those memories.
I guess it was around this time that I heard that one of Ken’s family members was telling everybody that “Kenny has been healed!” While I was praising God and rejoicing loudly at the fact that Ken was doing so well, for some reason, that comment from his family member bothered me. You have to understand – this particular family member, and others of his family as well, never seemed to “get it” when it came to Ken’s illness. They were pretty much in denial about the whole thing. It seemed like they thought that as long as Ken wasn’t laying in the bed dying, that he was just FINE. They would ask him to do things like climb up on their roof or go and shovel chicken manure. This man was missing half of his internal organs and had absolutely no immune system, but somehow, his family thought those requests were reasonable. I would stomp my foot at Ken and tell him to call his family member back and tell them that what they had requested was out of the question. I can still see Ken grinning at me, saying, “I guess you’re, right, Honey. I didn’t think about that.” Then he would call and tell them that “Melinda says I can’t help you ...”. Sometimes I think he would agree to help them with those ridiculous requests just to see me stomp my foot at him. Silly man, I was only trying to take care of him.
Anyway, for some reason, the “healed” remark just seemed to fly all over me. I would grit my teeth and not say anything, because I didn’t want to cause any trouble between Ken and his family. They loved him too, and in their own peculiar way, I knew they wanted what was best for him. But one day, the family member was just all in my face about it. She asked me if I had told Jesse and Benjamin that Ken had been healed. I said, “No, I haven’t told them that.” “What are you waiting for?”, she asked. (DEEP breath) “Because I don’t know for sure that he’s been healed,” I replied. Family member is becoming more animated now... “What do you mean, you don’t know he’s been healed?! Don’t you believe God can heal Kenny?!” she shouted. (Another DEEP breath) “YES!”, I replied, “I do believe that God can heal Ken. I believe that He can grow Ken a brand new stomach if that’s what He wants to do. I just am not sure what God is going to do.” Then this family member looked me square in the eyes and said something I’ll never forget. “You have to pray believing! YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH FAITH!” Well... I felt like someone had squeezed every little bit of air out of my lungs. I’m not sure what she expected me to say. I finally said, “Are you saying that if Ken dies, it will be my fault?” She started sputtering and assuring me that that was not what she meant, but her tone had been so condemning and accusatory. It broke my heart. I guess she realized that she had said too much, because she left soon after.
SIGH... As much as I would loved to have agreed with her that Ken was healed, God NEVER told me He was going to heal him. God told me that I should “get ready”. And that’s what I tried to do.
Three months came and went and Ken went back to see Dr. Schlabach. None of the tests/scans/scopes they did showed any sign of cancer. Dr. S. shook his head and said, “Ken, there is no medical reason that you should still be here.” I replied, “That’s because the reason he’s still here is NOT medical. It is a God thing.” The Dr. agreed and told us to come back three months later.
We entered into a time of being almost “normal”. Ken felt much stronger and was able to get out and piddle around a little with his rental properties. We were able to get a portable feeding pump (“Baby Bill”) which Ken could wear in a backpack, so we were able to go more places. He started taking the boys to “camp out” in his van so they could sell stuff at the Flea Market down in Dalton. Jesse and Benjamin loved that. They still talk about sleeping in the van, talking to their Dad through the night. I’m glad they have those memories.
I guess it was around this time that I heard that one of Ken’s family members was telling everybody that “Kenny has been healed!” While I was praising God and rejoicing loudly at the fact that Ken was doing so well, for some reason, that comment from his family member bothered me. You have to understand – this particular family member, and others of his family as well, never seemed to “get it” when it came to Ken’s illness. They were pretty much in denial about the whole thing. It seemed like they thought that as long as Ken wasn’t laying in the bed dying, that he was just FINE. They would ask him to do things like climb up on their roof or go and shovel chicken manure. This man was missing half of his internal organs and had absolutely no immune system, but somehow, his family thought those requests were reasonable. I would stomp my foot at Ken and tell him to call his family member back and tell them that what they had requested was out of the question. I can still see Ken grinning at me, saying, “I guess you’re, right, Honey. I didn’t think about that.” Then he would call and tell them that “Melinda says I can’t help you ...”. Sometimes I think he would agree to help them with those ridiculous requests just to see me stomp my foot at him. Silly man, I was only trying to take care of him.
Anyway, for some reason, the “healed” remark just seemed to fly all over me. I would grit my teeth and not say anything, because I didn’t want to cause any trouble between Ken and his family. They loved him too, and in their own peculiar way, I knew they wanted what was best for him. But one day, the family member was just all in my face about it. She asked me if I had told Jesse and Benjamin that Ken had been healed. I said, “No, I haven’t told them that.” “What are you waiting for?”, she asked. (DEEP breath) “Because I don’t know for sure that he’s been healed,” I replied. Family member is becoming more animated now... “What do you mean, you don’t know he’s been healed?! Don’t you believe God can heal Kenny?!” she shouted. (Another DEEP breath) “YES!”, I replied, “I do believe that God can heal Ken. I believe that He can grow Ken a brand new stomach if that’s what He wants to do. I just am not sure what God is going to do.” Then this family member looked me square in the eyes and said something I’ll never forget. “You have to pray believing! YOU DON’T HAVE ENOUGH FAITH!” Well... I felt like someone had squeezed every little bit of air out of my lungs. I’m not sure what she expected me to say. I finally said, “Are you saying that if Ken dies, it will be my fault?” She started sputtering and assuring me that that was not what she meant, but her tone had been so condemning and accusatory. It broke my heart. I guess she realized that she had said too much, because she left soon after.
SIGH... As much as I would loved to have agreed with her that Ken was healed, God NEVER told me He was going to heal him. God told me that I should “get ready”. And that’s what I tried to do.
"Wait and See"
After about three more weeks of constant tube feeding, numerous medications, and sleepless nights, I began to see tiny little glimpses of improvement. Ken’s fever was going down and the diarrhea seemed to be subsiding some. He was even saying he was hungry again, so that was encouraging.
Dr. Gefter was concerned with Ken’s weight loss, so he prescribed another kind of liquid nutrition. It was called ProSure and it was made specially for cancer patients. Now Ken was getting three cans of the Replete and two to three cans of the ProSure every day. “Bill” was pumping constantly, day and night.
Anytime Ken finished with any kind of treatment, the doctors would always do another round of scans and scopes to see how the cancer had reacted. The results this time were unchanged from what they had been prior to the radiation. The doctors said that was good news because the cancer had neither grown nor spread. Told us that now we would just have to “wait and see”. They scheduled Ken for an appointment in a month.
Ken was getting stronger each day. He was able to eat a little, here and there, so we were gradually able to go back to tube-feeding only at night. The “hollow-eyed” look was being replaced by that mischievous sparkle I had fallen in love with. I was so grateful that Ken was finally feeling better, but it was difficult for me to know how I was supposed to feel at that time. I wanted to be happy and relieved, but I felt like I was constantly holding my breath, waiting for the next horrible thing to happen.
I pretended to let Ken go back to “normal”, but I was constantly watching for any little sign that could mean disaster. I would hold these conversations with myself in my head. Happy, relieved Melinda would say, “Relax! The doctors said everything looks good!” Worried, scared Melinda would reply, “But you KNOW that the cancer is in Ken’s lymph system–it could go anywhere!” Happy relieved Melinda would come back with, “Don’t waste precious time worrying! Just accept this miracle and live each day as if Ken was never going to be sick again!” Worried, scared Melinda would whine, “I can’t let myself feel relieved. It would hurt too much if he got sick again!” On and on it would go...driving me crazy and wearing me out. See, that’s how CRAZY cancer is. Even if it’s good news, it can drive you nuts!
Dr. Gefter was concerned with Ken’s weight loss, so he prescribed another kind of liquid nutrition. It was called ProSure and it was made specially for cancer patients. Now Ken was getting three cans of the Replete and two to three cans of the ProSure every day. “Bill” was pumping constantly, day and night.
Anytime Ken finished with any kind of treatment, the doctors would always do another round of scans and scopes to see how the cancer had reacted. The results this time were unchanged from what they had been prior to the radiation. The doctors said that was good news because the cancer had neither grown nor spread. Told us that now we would just have to “wait and see”. They scheduled Ken for an appointment in a month.
Ken was getting stronger each day. He was able to eat a little, here and there, so we were gradually able to go back to tube-feeding only at night. The “hollow-eyed” look was being replaced by that mischievous sparkle I had fallen in love with. I was so grateful that Ken was finally feeling better, but it was difficult for me to know how I was supposed to feel at that time. I wanted to be happy and relieved, but I felt like I was constantly holding my breath, waiting for the next horrible thing to happen.
I pretended to let Ken go back to “normal”, but I was constantly watching for any little sign that could mean disaster. I would hold these conversations with myself in my head. Happy, relieved Melinda would say, “Relax! The doctors said everything looks good!” Worried, scared Melinda would reply, “But you KNOW that the cancer is in Ken’s lymph system–it could go anywhere!” Happy relieved Melinda would come back with, “Don’t waste precious time worrying! Just accept this miracle and live each day as if Ken was never going to be sick again!” Worried, scared Melinda would whine, “I can’t let myself feel relieved. It would hurt too much if he got sick again!” On and on it would go...driving me crazy and wearing me out. See, that’s how CRAZY cancer is. Even if it’s good news, it can drive you nuts!
Radiation
Ken’s radiation treatments began without any fuss. We went every weekday morning and were only there for about two hours at the most. Then we’d go home and life went on as “normally” as it could in the world of the dreaded “C-Word”. I remember one funny thing about going for the radiation treatments. You know how people complain about the magazines at the doctors’ offices always being old? Well, one morning we went in and on the table there was a magazine that was dated June, 1977!!!! I’m NOT kidding! The radiation center wasn’t even that old. I’ve often wondered just where the magazine came from. Anyway, it was good for a laugh.
The radiation treatments made Ken very, very tired. In fact, it sort of had a cumulative effect. The more treatments he had, the more tired he was. To begin with, that was the only side-effect he suffered. But, as the weeks passed, Ken began to get sick. First, it was just severe nausea. Then it went into mild diarrhea. He couldn’t eat, so we were having to keep “Bill” pumping more than usual to keep him from losing weight. Then, about when the treatments were ending, the diarrhea got worse. And about two weeks after the treatments were finished, the diarrhea got MUCH worse. In fact, the only word that really describes it would be “explosive”. Poor Ken, he was SO sick. By the end of June, he was taking four different medications to try and stop it and he was hooked up to “Bill” constantly. I was REALLY worried. I was afraid we were going to lose him then. I was SO scared and I was NOT ready for him to go (not that I was EVER ready). I remember laying on the floor by the couch (he was more comfortable there than in the hospital bed) while he slept, listening to him breathe, listening to “Bill” clicking and grinding through the night, burying my face in my pillow, trying not to sob out loud. It was such a heart-breaking time.
Michaelann and Adam were getting married on July 6th. Jesse and Benjamin were both in the wedding. But Ken was so sick, I wasn’t able to go down and be a part of the preparations like I would have liked to. In fact, I wasn’t really sure until the morning of the wedding whether or not I would even get to go. Mama and Daddy came up and got the boys so they’d be there for the rehearsal, but Ken was too sick to go and I wouldn’t leave him even for one night. The morning of the 6th, Ken assured me it would be okay for me to go. I had asked his brother to come and stay with him while I was gone. Before I left, I gave his brother a list of what to do if Ken got worse. Then I put my finger in his face and told him that he was NOT to leave Ken alone, no matter what Ken said. Ken had a habit of making his situation sound better than it really was, and his family tended to be in denial about the whole thing. I was worried that Ken would tell his brother that he was fine and send him on home. I told Ken’s brother if he left before I got back, I would “kick his butt”. He laughed at me, but I was absolutely serious.
Jan and her sister, Jayne, were driving down that morning, so I decided to go with them. I was so exhausted that I was really afraid to drive by myself, especially since the boys would be coming back with me. I was so worried about leaving Ken at home so sick, that I don’t really remember a whole lot about Michaelann’s wedding. I do remember how beautiful she looked coming down the aisle, on her way to marry her sweet Adam. It did my heart good to see how much they loved each other. After the reception, Michaelann asked me to help her get ready to leave the church. Sweet girl...she wanted to make sure I felt like I had been included in the wedding, even though I was only there for a short while. When I look at her wedding pictures now, I’m always surprised at how much of it I don’t remember. It makes me sad, but it couldn’t be helped.
The radiation treatments made Ken very, very tired. In fact, it sort of had a cumulative effect. The more treatments he had, the more tired he was. To begin with, that was the only side-effect he suffered. But, as the weeks passed, Ken began to get sick. First, it was just severe nausea. Then it went into mild diarrhea. He couldn’t eat, so we were having to keep “Bill” pumping more than usual to keep him from losing weight. Then, about when the treatments were ending, the diarrhea got worse. And about two weeks after the treatments were finished, the diarrhea got MUCH worse. In fact, the only word that really describes it would be “explosive”. Poor Ken, he was SO sick. By the end of June, he was taking four different medications to try and stop it and he was hooked up to “Bill” constantly. I was REALLY worried. I was afraid we were going to lose him then. I was SO scared and I was NOT ready for him to go (not that I was EVER ready). I remember laying on the floor by the couch (he was more comfortable there than in the hospital bed) while he slept, listening to him breathe, listening to “Bill” clicking and grinding through the night, burying my face in my pillow, trying not to sob out loud. It was such a heart-breaking time.
Michaelann and Adam were getting married on July 6th. Jesse and Benjamin were both in the wedding. But Ken was so sick, I wasn’t able to go down and be a part of the preparations like I would have liked to. In fact, I wasn’t really sure until the morning of the wedding whether or not I would even get to go. Mama and Daddy came up and got the boys so they’d be there for the rehearsal, but Ken was too sick to go and I wouldn’t leave him even for one night. The morning of the 6th, Ken assured me it would be okay for me to go. I had asked his brother to come and stay with him while I was gone. Before I left, I gave his brother a list of what to do if Ken got worse. Then I put my finger in his face and told him that he was NOT to leave Ken alone, no matter what Ken said. Ken had a habit of making his situation sound better than it really was, and his family tended to be in denial about the whole thing. I was worried that Ken would tell his brother that he was fine and send him on home. I told Ken’s brother if he left before I got back, I would “kick his butt”. He laughed at me, but I was absolutely serious.
Jan and her sister, Jayne, were driving down that morning, so I decided to go with them. I was so exhausted that I was really afraid to drive by myself, especially since the boys would be coming back with me. I was so worried about leaving Ken at home so sick, that I don’t really remember a whole lot about Michaelann’s wedding. I do remember how beautiful she looked coming down the aisle, on her way to marry her sweet Adam. It did my heart good to see how much they loved each other. After the reception, Michaelann asked me to help her get ready to leave the church. Sweet girl...she wanted to make sure I felt like I had been included in the wedding, even though I was only there for a short while. When I look at her wedding pictures now, I’m always surprised at how much of it I don’t remember. It makes me sad, but it couldn’t be helped.
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