Constantly changing

One of the less predictable things about aging is that you aren't always aware of how things subtly change in your wake.  From child-rearing to the routine mid-week supper, to what is appropriate to say in polite company, things change, but often so gradually you don't really notice,  sort of like wrinkles.  

Jim is in the care of specialists at Beth Israel in Boston.  The "team" is quite amazing and lots of improvements have been made since my dad was a cancer patient, back in the early 80's.   The staff has always been supportive, and remains so.  Clearly someone has been making a conscious effort to create an atmosphere that is friendly, informed, compassionate and upbeat.  

But along with this has come a decentralization of care that is unnerving.  Our primary oncologist has been "away from the office" over the three months Jim has been under his care for a week for the religious holidays,  a  week in October for travel, and then approximately a month for elective surgery in November.  During that time, I understand he has been kept abreast of Jim's hospital-izations by e-mail.   Unfortunately his "fellow" who is a delightful expectant mother of twins, has also been doing whatever pregnant fellows do, (??)   and has been missing almost as often and simultaneously.  During the last four day stint, inpatient, Jim never saw either of his physicians, nor did he see anyone higher than the rank of "attending resident" during his stay.  It has been 7 weeks since his oncologist saw him, to decide whether to continue Chemo or not.

In this time Jim's countenance is in slow but steady decline.  His has acquired a roundness in his upper back from compression fractures in the vertebrae which then collapse on each other.   It is tempting to encourage him to stay in bed, where there is no danger of him falling, our greatest worry.     Since my last blog entry, the progress that seemed so wonderful has been lost and it feels like perhaps another rib has let go.   This slow-motion disintegration makes the presence of a doctor who can honestly proclaim, "the chemo is working and we are full of hope" all the more compelling.  

Our next appointment is Monday and I assume we will get some update on Jim's progress at that time.  By some miracle, the planets are converging and all the doctors will be awaiting us at 10 a.m.!   If it is your wont, please say a little prayer for him.