Week 2: Late midweek update

Wow! Whoda thought I'd have two updates in the middle of the week? (I know—anyone who knows how vociferous I am.)

But today was another one of those days where kind of a lot happened, so here goes. And instead of going in chronological order and burying the lead, I'll start with the biggest news: the doctor called with the PET/CT scan results. He said it was "stage IV T2N2c." I know what you're thinking: STAGE IV! CRAP! But it sounds worse than it is. Stage IV means that the cancer is in the lymph nodes—but the doctor said they are relatively small tumors on just three lymph nodes. It has not spread down the neck and into the lungs, and that is what would have worried them the most. He also said he was confident that the chemo/radiation would get the whole thing. So all in all, it's good news.

The other big news was that Vic had his radiation planning session. We arrived, and then they immediately whisked him off into the super-secret spy shit area (I can only assume that's what it was, since they did not let me back there. How am I supposed to hold his hand from the waiting room???). Apparently in this area they use floobits and zappers and other highly technical devices.

Then they fitted him with a mask. The mask is scary, sort of Jason meets Hannibal Lecter meets Alien.

Then they planned out where they wanted to place the radiation.

Extremely precise, which is exactly what we want.

Vic said they put some tattoos on him, which he is sure gives him street cred, but they look like Xs made with Sharpies to me, so I'm not sure that's going to get very far with the Crips. Or the Bloods.

Next steps: The techs will work behind the scenes to prep the treatment. Then a physicist will review the treatment, and the treatment will start—probably around the same day as the chemo starts, which is next Wednesday, July 13. Each session (35 total) will take about 30 minutes total.

I had my scheduled meltdown from 12:23 to 12:26 p.m.

In the afternoon, the nutritionist came by and showed Vic how to use the feeding tube. He inserted a quarter of a cup of water into the feeding tube and didn't feel a thing. He said it was really weird.

Yesterday I mentioned his tooth guards and teased that I might have pictures today. Lo! Pictures!

This is the mold of Vic's teeth:

These are Vic's teeth guards:

And that's about all I have for today. We have no appointments tomorrow, so don't expect another update until next week. :-)

Emotions: Same.

Song: Oh, I have a special treat for you today. I mentioned "Squamous in the night" in yesterday's blog post but lamented the fact that we hadn't come up with any good lyrics for it. Thank goodness I have at least one superbly creative friend—the multitalented Mary Dondanville, who came up with the best lyrics to this song! Do not read this while drinking unless you want to snort milk (or tequila, or martini, or whatever you drink) through your nose.

"Squamous in the night," sung to the tune of "Strangers in the night," new lyrics by Mary Dondanville, "with apologies to Frank Sinatra, Bert Kampfert, Charles Singleton and Eddie Snyder."

Squamous in the night, it's just my feeding
Tube that's in the light. I could be reading
Pamphlets about C
But that would soon depress.

Reading about C does not enlignten
Me. I want to flee
But can't be frightened.
I can win this fight
If I can trust in MEEEEEEEE.

BRIDGE
Squamous in the night, two lonely C cells they were
Squamous in the night, devoured by T cells but then
Little did they know
They were soon aglow
Death was just a drip away
A most annoying blip away.

AND
Squamous in the night would soon be leaving.
Feeding in the night would be retrieving
Strength to win the fight
'gainst squamous in the night.

SCAT
Die you C cells, die
die die die die die
[repeat to fade out]

Many, many thanks to our guest lyricist today, Miss Mary Dondanville. Catch her down at the Casa Grande Bar and Grille on Tuesdays and Thursdays during the Early Bird Special!

Have a good weekend, everyone. Remember: extra hugs all around.