Following immediately on from last night’s blog, I feel it’s only right to provide an update despite it being less than 24 hours.
Today we attended the hospital for the planned Scan to assess just what was going on in Dad’s bowel. The appointment lasted just 30 minutes and we were then asked to see the Oncologist later in the afternoon for the results.
The news unfortunately is not what we had hoped. Whilst we expected that fluid around the heart would cause the next complication and halt the Immunotherapy treatment, this was not the case.
Instead, Dad today was dealt with the blow that, as originally feared, they have discovered a new tumour in his bowel. The Bowel Cancer has grown quickly and is now to be the main focus of any future treatment efforts.
This said, Dad will also need to have a biopsy performed next week on his liver due to the cancer also causing more concern in this area. The cancer had already spread into his liver so this is nothing new but sadly it appears this side of things has also gradually got worse.
Immunotherapy is no longer an option for Dad. The Immunotherapy is designed to work with the protein found in the Lung Cancer. The Bowel Cancer does not contain this protein and treatment must now be focused on the bowel and not the lungs.
Seeing Dad’s reaction to the news was gutting. Watching someone you love be dealt the cruellest of blows when the finishing post was within spitting distance was awful. His colour vanished immediately and the realisation that he was being pushed down the road of no return quickly dawned on him. The dangled carrot has effectively been well and truly removed.
The next step for Dad is to start a new round of chemotherapy, a new phase of hope. This is due to start on Friday morning. He will receive the chemotherapy intravenously for 2 hours. He will then be free to go home. The difference this time is that he will then be on chemotherapy pills to be taken at home for 14 days.
Oral pills are known to cause their fair share of side effects though until I know exactly which type he is given, it’s impossible to say. We will know on Friday though the side effects are likely to be nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, febrile neutropoenia (fever) and peripheral neuropathy (nerve damage).
The Oncologist will also be keeping a close eye on Dad every week, if not more frequently. This will include blood tests and general health checks. They are concerned that the complications we have seen over the last few months, of kidney failure and low sodium levels, could make a comeback. It is not to say that they will, just that extra caution is needed to ensure it’s known exactly how Dad is at each stage of the bowel chemo.
With regards to his pain relief, his doses have also now been increased. This includes the Morphine patches he has to wear, as well as countless other tablets that he is now on. The Actiq lollipops he craves have also been increased in dosage. These should only be taken during severe episodes of onset pain. They almost now seem like sweets to Dad though.
There is no time limit set for how long Dad has left. There are signs, indications and reflections on situations that have occurred that lead us to wonder if its days, weeks or months. At times, we have been given some indications, though nothing concrete can truly ever be stated or relied upon.
Please know that whilst we may struggle at times to deal with the language barrier that the Spanish health system may present, I can confirm with the utter most confidence and assurance that Dad’s care has been second to none. The doctors, nurses, porters, specialists, receptionists, cleaners etc. are all truly wonderful, patient, caring and accepting people. The treatment he has received and continues to receive is incredible; he never goes without. Some of the information can seem overwhelming though this is because we are dealing with something that affects us where it hurts, our hearts.
Today is a major blow. Our job is to now build him back up. He is worried. He is concerned. He is questioning how much fight he has left. He is however open to continued treatment efforts. He is not ready to give up despite naturally at times feeling like the end is in sight.
Whatever happens, do not take today’s news as bad as it may sound. Immunotherapy was a chance of an extended life, with a hope of a cure. Whilst the eligibility has been whisked away from him, the pure fact that he was even possibly going to be able to take part has kept him going. This hope was enough to keep him battling on. This is not the end.
Dad is a fighter. He still is a fighter and still has fight left in him.