A few weeks ago my sister was feeling discomfort in her abdomen. She went to the doctor, who ordered a few tests. During the tests, they found fluid in her abdomen and drained it. She and I were talking a day or two after that particular appointment when she said, “Gotta run- I’ve got to drain to my stomach.”
I’m sorry—what!? At this point I felt it was appropriate to respond with, “Like a bathtub?”
If you’re reading this you know that the diagnosis from those tests is stomach cancer. Since receiving the diagnosis the doctors have installed a tube in Melissa’s chest, to be used when administering some of the chemo. They call it a mediport; I call it her faucet. She almost got a shower caddy. They were considering a type of chemo that would have required her to carry an “apparatus” all the time. For the time being, they have opted to go with a pill instead of the apparatus. (The pill will be one of three medications she will be given. The other two will be administered through the faucet.) I have yet to think of an appropriate bathtub metaphor for the pills. Bath salts, perhaps.
Since the diagnosis, Melissa has received a massive amount of calls, emails, and texts. These are very much appreciated, and she keeps telling me that she wishes she could speak to everyone. Unfortunately—being sick—she just doesn’t have the energy. She has asked me to create a blog in order to keep everyone updated and in touch. We’ll both be posting here as frequently as we can.
She starts chemotherapy today. The nurse working at her oncologist’s office on Fridays is a member of my parents’ church. We are grateful there will be a friendly face administering my sister’s treatment. I’m sure she’ll be tired tonight, but we’ll try and get an update posted tonight or tomorrow.
