Principia Discordia > Or Kill Me

Who takes care of the caretaker?

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Suu (parody account):
Long story short, after deployment, Jeff started to get upper right quadrant pain. The boat's doc chalked it off as gas, an ulcer (WRONG SIDE OF THE STOMACH ASSHOLE), and acid reflux. Anything they could to stop him from getting fully checked out. On the 4th of July he went into acute liver failure and went to the ER the day after. He was 2 days from death. Biliary blockage, sounded to me like bad gallstones.

No. The blockage was because his liver is being consumed by innumerable neuroendocrine tumors that metastasized from a mass in his sigmoid colon. It's also in his lungs, bone (spine), and sticking on random things in his torso. He went from being arguably normal and healthy to a stage 4 cancer patient in 3 weeks. They stabilized his liver with a stent and lots of meds, and then the chemo started. 2 rounds at the Naval Hospital in VA, and now he's here in Tampa at one of the best cancer centers in the nation because there was no fucking way I was going to let him continue to stay up there when I'm here, and I have Moffitt.

Neuroendocrine is rare. The usual suspect of colorectal cancer is adenocarcinoma. Neuroendocrine is its own evil fucker that accounts for only 7000 diagnoses per year in the US, and usual in men over 60. It's almost always found metastatic because of the way it flies under the radar. It spreads by corrupting hormones and shooting them off versus pieces of itself. It is pure fucking malice. We don't know how he got it, there's some genetic predisposition to cancer, but not this type. The radiation he gets on submarines is less than the sun, and bubbleheads are subjected to regular physicals. However, he did complain of bloody stools 2 years ago (I saw it, I made him say something), and again, the doc chalked it off as hemorrhoids. Friends: bleeding from the ass is not normal. 2 years for cancer is a damn lifetime. The oncologist at the naval hospital was PISSED when he found out, because we could have just been dealing with polyps at that point, not a 6cm cue ball. I plan on reaching out to a lawyer soon. Corpsmen are not being trained properly and are putting needs of the Navy ahead of life threatening conditions. I'm no doctor, but I know better than to fuck around with severe abdominal pain and bloody shit.

Prognosis is grim, we're looking at 6 months to 2 years on just chemo, but, imaging shows tumor necropsy after 2 rounds, so the Navy did give him the right cocktail, and then Moffitt tweaked it to reduce side effects. He has round 4 next week, and he's halfway through with this infusion schedule. The largest tumors have shrunk by 2cm, this is an excellent response, but not all of them are responding. His liver looks like its full of marbles. Because of the stage of this disease, he is not a candidate for transplant. This is it. We get it under control and we keep him alive for as along as the drugs work. Once they stop working? Welp. Moffitt is going to see about immunotherapy, which is powerful and effective in the long term, but not always against this type of cancer. If it takes, we're looking at a potential 8-10 years added back on his life. (Seriously, this SCIENCE is fucking GLORIOUS) but it all depends on what continues to respond to the chemo. He's already bald, can't taste shit, lost 25lbs, and sleeps all the time. Compound this on a hip injury the Navy also didn't look at (not even a fucking X-Ray or MRI which could have detected anomalies sooner) and he's moving slow. His appetite is good, and his nausea is controlled by medication. His largest tumor in his liver has shrunk enough to where its off his abdomen wall, and he can lay on his side again while sleeping. (I could see the hematoma, fucking horrible.)

His team at Moffitt is amazing. He's in phenomenal hands and we're optimistic about treatment since he's already showing response. But, I'm also a realist, and so is he. We took out a life insurance advance and cleared all debt.

This whole thing fucking sucks. He's just 41.

Doktor Howl:
Well, that really sucks, and I'm sorry this is happening to you two.

I only met Jeff a couple of times, but I like him a great deal.

Suu (parody account):

--- Quote from: Doktor Howl on September 10, 2022, 12:12:59 am ---Well, that really sucks, and I'm sorry this is happening to you two.

I only met Jeff a couple of times, but I like him a great deal.

--- End quote ---

He's too good for me, really. Figures.

But he's handling chemo like a fucking champ, just sleeping a lot.

I got this today. The teal/white is for my cervical cancer, the zebra is for his neuroendocrine.

Suu (parody account):
His white blood cell count is too high, rather than dropping.

This could be a side effect of the chemo, or, indicative of possible leukemia, which means metastasis into his bone marrow.

This is fine.  :kingmeh:

Suu (parody account):
Trying to cope with my own shit: Anger projection.

I'm not exactly Ms. Sunshine on an average day, but I did work pretty hard to reduce my anger for several years, mostly after Jeff and I got together. That self-awareness went up in smoke. Thanos snapped and so did I.

I'm both amused and horrified at my behavior. On one hand: it didn't take long to unravel years of growth and therapy, on the other, I turned back into the heartless monster I was known for. So well that I got myself a perma-ban from Twitter. Don't get me wrong, they totally deserved it, but Twitter also needs to be held accountable for their population of white supremacists they still allow on the platform. I'll get consistently attacked and my DMs flooded by the usual deplorable suspects, but this week I went full on no quarter and got what I deserved I guess. My patience is non-existent, and my empathy is well and truly gone. When my drunk mother tried to lament to me how her marriage to my father is falling apart (it has been for decades, really), I stood there without emotion and asked her if she was trying to usurp the fact that my husband is fucking dying, or if she really cared that much if my dad got her a cake for her birthday or not. I flat out told her that once Jeff was gone, I was taking off and never coming back.

The truth is, I don't really fucking care, and while that sounds like a good thing, I feel like a goddamn psychopath. Either I feel nothing at all, or I am ready to burn it all down, with nothing in between. It's 100% a trauma response, but it's starting to have consequences. Twitter doesn't matter, but my abrasiveness at school is going to start causing issues, so I need to check myself. Losing the support of my family will cost me as well.

Self-care is a fucking joke when things get like this. I haven't even found time to color my hair before I go on a trip this week for school.

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