Home of the WHAT?

Last week Jim was neglected a bit while we transformed the cellar, but seems no worse for wear. I rolled him an Ensure each time I passed our room, and he read a lot, napping and seemingly insulated from the chaos outside the door. He continues to take the chemo in pill form here at home and sees the doctor once during each protocol.

We had helpers and boxes everywhere, punctuated with occasional notes of hysteria that hinted in the direction of 'going postal'. Two strong young men we hired carried out several defunct appliances, sharp old bed frames, railings formerly on our front porch (In 1994 I had visions of incorporating them into an island for the kitchen-- wouldn't that have been adorable? wwit) and all manner of heavy items. In 2 hours, half the cellar was perfectly cavernous. "My" side still suffers from an over-population of cookie sheets, many of which are older than Lynn, humongous platters and a large set of fish plates with which I am reluctant to part. (my English professor would be so proud I wrote such an absurd sentence just to avoid the last word being 'with') Oops.

In all this, it is natural to take inventory of the past and try to look to what lies ahead. Some people (not very many, but some) live 10-15 years with MM. Most of those who survive the longest have had a stem cell transplant, (sometimes 2). It is possible. When asked his dreams for a future once his MM is in remission, Jim still wants to stay the course and continue his life's work of redefining the limits on radiation exposure. See, even after 40 years' evidence to the contrary, I still hoped he MIGHT say, "why, Beloved, I want to sail with you around the world, and sketch you while you sleep! (Smacking forehead) I'm apparently a slow learner.

The last medical appointment revealed Jim had lost 3 more pounds, putting him at 136. His red blood cells were down to 20, so he needed a transfusion of two units of blood, which added another 6 hours to the appointment. He has also been given a medication to help him feel hungry. Forget the Revlamid... that's the one they should have clearly marked so someone doesn't it take accidentally.

Optimistic signs are that he relished two doughnuts (not on the celiac diet, but, 'oh well') Saturday and woke me at 6 am today to tell me he thought a "Whopper" from Burger King might be something he could eat. Not at 6 am, my friend. Even if I were willing to get up and drive there. Hopefully having fantasies of junk food is gonna put calories into his diet even if we never get there.

PS: One night later, he even came along for the ride to BK and ordered the aforementioned Double Whopper with a thick shake on the side. I was convinced it was a fools errand, but went along with it to humor him. And he FINISHED it! Several hours later, no repercussions, so this is real progress.