Status Update

Returning to Florida for the month of February is off the table. It just got way too complicated, trying to prepare for all the possible medical issues. I don't really feel up to the travel and it suddenly seemed crazy to be driving everyone nuts trying to make this happen. That's why we went for two weeks in January, fearing that February was a long way away.
But to back up a bit, Tony & I were set to fly home from our two-week stay Jan. 19th. But that night, for the first (and so far the last time), I had lung pain. So I took some morphine. Turns out, morphine doesn't quite agree with me. It took care of the pain, but produced vomiting, so much so that I couldn't keep the anti-nausea pill down. I finally managed and off we headed to the airport. I was in a bit of fog. But the pill didn't quite work, and the movement of getting up out of the wheelchair to walk onto the plane started to produce retching. I made it to the bathroom, leaving Tony to argue with the steward that we should not be thrown off the plane because I was too sick to travel! Tony managed to convince them, and the flight attendants were very relieved to just see me sleep the whole way, or try to -- with a three-year-old kicking my seat and an 18-month-old shrieking. Parents were very apologetic, but jeeesh. Don't people know how to control their kids?? (I sound like a grumpy old lady, but I felt like one.)
Mara picked us up at LaGuardia (her timing great driving back with Ellie from packing up her place in Austin, TX) and the ride home was uneventful. Dear, dear Chris literally had the home-fires burning, even hot packs in my bed. He greeted me with an IV of saline that perked me right up.
But clearly there were new issues. Chris was pushing for me to start taking some palliative drugs, to help extend quality of life, and I was resisting. I finally realized that my resistance was simply not wanting to acknowledge that I had gone somewhat downhill. Once I realized that, Tony, Mara, Chris & I met with my primary care doctor (no more need for the oncologist) and last Friday night, I started on a steroid. Its purpose is to alleviate nausea, reduce inflammation around the tumors, since it is often the inflammation rather than the tumor that causes problems. It was also hoped it would boost appetite and energy and perhaps help with the occasional shortness of breath. So far, it hasn't done those things, but I gather it yet may.
And although the steroid "has no real side effects," I also walked out with four other medications -- to treat potential side effects. It's such a cascading effect. One drug requires the balancing of another drug and so on.
Today, oxygen was delivered, so here it is here for a hopefully far-future need. Tomorrow, the hospice in-take nurse makes her first official visit to sign me up, in part so all this stuff will be covered by Medicare. Would you believe that a Stage IV lung cancer patient can't get oxygen -- unless I'm officially in hospice. Oh our wonderful health care system.
So I am not taking any pain meds, none needed, thank goodness. But mornings are hard. I just simply have no energy, no appetite. By afternoon, I feel human and can get off the bed and do some simple stuff around the house. It really harkens back to my teenage days. I was always a very, very late sleeper -- noon if my parents would let me. So once again, I am not a "morning person." So I'll just have to plan my outings for the afternoon & early evening. We are hoping to do some fun stuff in the city as well as around here.
Meanwhile, all the kids who were coming to Florida are changing reservations and heading home for a visit, so once again, it will be a wonderful steady stream of children & grandchildren. I think everyone is anxious to come while I am still in decent shape.