Cancer sucks. That’s all there is to it! Nobody ever said, “Oh wow! I have cancer! Halleluiah!”
If you have read anything about Stanley Tucci’s recent cancer and treatment you have an idea of Jim’s first go-around. They were almost exactly the same. Cancer on the base of his tongue, thirty-five radiation treatments, feeding tube, temporary loss of taste and smell (Jim’s major fear on that account as he would tell anyone who would listen, was that beer wouldn’t taste good. No problem there!) Poor Tucci had to endure 7 sessions of chemotherapy. Jim only did two as they were so hard on his kidneys that his doctors cancelled the last one.
My husband lost 40 pounds altogether during that long winter. At one time he told me that he thought he was starving to death. He very literally could not eat. The targeted radiation messed with all of the functions in his mouth. His throat was swollen nearly shut. His saliva glands went into overtime producing so much mucus that since he couldn’t swallow it, he had to spit out. I set him up with paper towels and a basin which I would exchange for clean every hour or so. By the end his body was requiring this action every 20 minutes. As you can imagine sleep was hard to come by.
He signed up to participate in a study (of course he did!) This had both positive and negative results. On the plus side the nurses who saw him every day made sure he got the right care every day. For instance no matter how much fluid he tried to get down he was always “a quart low” and most days they would send us over to the chemo ward to get “topped off”. I never had to worry about whether to do this or that because they knew exactly what to do and made sure we did it!
The bad thing was that he got stuck for a blood draw every day. We did not factor this in when we said no to a port, after all, initially he was only to get chemo three times, who needed a port for that? What a huge mistake that was! By the end nobody could find a vein on that poor man! And he was always so patient. I was not. I remember one time having to leave the room. They had, after several attempts, called in the “expert”, who, of course, did no better than the nurse. When I returned to the room, as composed as possible, I simply asked, “How many times are you going to poke him before you give up?” They packed up their things and left immediately. I have no doubt that they were feeling as badly about it as I was.
Once we got the feeding tube I thought things would get better, but it takes time after your stomach has been empty for so long, to get used to food, even a little liquid formula. I gave him too much. (Four ounces was too much!) I fed him and we headed to Omaha. And he slept in the car. And I let him sleep. He woke at the west edge of Omaha gagging on the mucus and that made him throw everything up, the mucus, the formula, everything. I told him, just get it out, I can clean up the car later. Talk about humbling!
We went directly to radiation that morning. I liked where it was then in the basemen of Clarkson Tower. The underground garage, which few people used, was protected against the cold, wind and snow. I was so thankful to let him out right at the door. When I joined him at the registration desk I asked if they had scrubs or something for him to change in to. They took one look at him and admitted him into the hospital! Again they had a difficult time with his veins. They finally got one in the crook of his elbow. Needless to say every time he moved his arm he set off the machine.
He was in for three days, and I was pretty insistent about no visitors. Mary and Patty came and I let them, but I sent them away as soon as I possibly could. He was not up to company. He was there to feel better not to entertain or be entertained. And the floor with cancer patients is and should be a very quiet place. Good people are busy concentrating on dying with grace or receiving much needed care.
I did call upon some friends and as expected Ron and Cindy came to my rescue. I needed clothes, Jim needed clothes, a tooth brush would be nice… They broke into our house (of course they had a key!) collected what we needed and drove to Omaha on that freezing cold night to deliver it to me. Once back in Lincoln they stopped at our house again to bring in the formula that had been delivered that day so it wouldn’t freeze.
In the end we were sent home with more medications than I could keep track of without a chart. And starting at two ounces at a time we began again.