Update: March 10, 2011

There hasn't been too much going on as far as Marion's condition. She's been experiencing the typical side effects of the chemotherapy...nausea, throwing up, loss of appetite. She's lost maybe 12 or so pounds (which allows her to fit into some clothes...so, at this point her doctors aren't concerned about the weight loss). Her blood counts are normal, and according to an X ray recently, it seems the tumor is responding to the treatments (meaning the tumor is shrinking). The doctors are now prepping Marion to have a "sleeve" inserted so they can do internal radiation. Her survival rate increases with this procedure.

I hate words and phrases like that. Prognosis, survival rate, quality of life...

While Marion goes into her treatments, I sit in a waiting room. All sorts of people shuffle in and out while I wait for her to get done. There are some people that come into radiation oncology that so much don't have a life as they just exist. There's a glaze in the eye of some of these patients. If you look closely, that spark that most people have...of things to do and people to see...just isn't there anymore. Maybe it's like shell shock or PTS or something similar. It's a battle to the death quite literally when you and cancer face off. I shudder to think Marion will get that look in her eye one day. It's entirely possible...but something I'd rather not face at the moment.

As far as all the other elements of this...the Social Security Disability is the one thing that's just slugging along right now. It's actually not because of the state in this case. It's because Cooper Hospital and the Women's Care Center hasn't sent in the required documents to the state yet. We got a call yesterday from a caseworker who said normally they would just close the case based on insufficient evidence. However, in Marion's case, since it's Stage III cancer she's willing to wait. I mean, it's been 43 days since the state attempted to get the reports and all from the clinic and the hospital. We have attempted to get some records as well, and haven't gotten them either. It's odd to me why the clinic and the hospital (who said they were in the process of sending it 2 weeks ago) can't get this rather simplistic task together. Our livelihood depends on it for God's sake.

We'll be going to the records department today to get more information. I hate having to woirry about these sorts of things, but the truth is we need to get it done. The case worker is also calling the Women's Care Center, so we're hoping this sandwich like assault will get things done.

A bittersweet Birthday, but a birthday nonetheless.

I was born 35 years ago on this day. Wow. I've seen a lot, done a lot, and learned a lot. I've seen the United States from the shores of New Jersey to the mountains of California. I've studied film and literature. I've read William Shakespeare and Howard Stern. I've seen classic films and the newer garbage that Hollywood sends out each year. I've played guitar, been in a few bands, and rue the day that I gave up playing. I've had friends pass away. I've lost my Mom to cancer...

...and now, with Marion, I am in a battle with cancer. It's hard to define what my role is in this battle. With a soldier like Marion, she makes things very easy. Even when she's in pain, she doesn't complain.

I'll relate a story because it just shows how amazing Marion is. I have cavities in probably 95% of my teeth, and from time to time will get these horrible, mind numbing, toothaches. One day last week, I was suffering from such a toothache when Marion came upstairs and knew I was in pain. She laid with me, rubbed my head, and just basically stayed with me to help keep my mind off of the pain while the Tylenol worked its way through me. Here I am with a freaking toothache...and she's suffering from cancer. I am truly humbled by her in most every day.

So, it's my birthday today. My Birthdays have stopped really meaning much by the time I turned 30 or so. I don't know. It just seems there is less and less to celebrate each year. Maybe that's the pessimist in me. But, it just seems odd to celebrate the day you were born. I really didn't have much to do with it.

I don't want to sound like I don't appreciate life. I do. In so many ways I appreciate the small things that most people are too busy to notice. I live my life in a series of small moments...the morning dew, the almost too blue sky, the laugh of a lover.

I do have a birthday wish...for Marion to be cured. I want the cancer to go away as if it was never there. She's doing so well now, and I think she will for the duration. She's a soldier, and she can win this.

Another week just like the past...

I sit here about six or so hours away from Marion embarking on her first treatments. My head kind of spins when I think about how time, fate, and a propensity for seemingly bad luck has drawn us to this point.

This all started over an abnormal period. That's all it was. Marion was bleeding much too long for it to be called a "normal" period. When she started passing golf ball sized clots, that's when we figured we should figure out what was going on. I remember that trip to the ER with her very vividly. We were asked numerous times why we hadn't come earlier (she had been bleeding "abnormally" for about a month). We answered modestly and honestly that we didn't have insurance coverage and were worried about how to pay the hospital bill.

That kind of irritates me because living in the USA we shouldn't have to worry about that. But, ever since Nixon announced HMOs all those years ago, health care increasingly became more about profits, who can afford it...who can live and, frankly, who can die.

I noticed earlier this week that Republicans are stepping up their war against the poor/middle class by trying to cut funding to Planned Parenthood. This is after they have tried to redefine rape and all various different types of things that make my head spin. Here's a link to look at in your spare time if you're so inclined.


I think back to when Marion was initially diagnosed and I remember hearing the news and after the sadness, shock, and terror faded away, I was left thinking, "How in the hell are we going to pay for this?" I had no idea where to look or what sources were available. It's kind of funny to think Marion makes too much for Medicaid, but she did by about 2 or 3 thousand dollars annually. I remember frantically looking at website after website looking for some way to fund her treatments...hell, at that point just to fund further diagnostics so we could just stage the cancer.

I got lucky and found the Breast and Cervical Cancer Act of 2000. It funds the NJCEED program here in NJ, and as a result I found a way to get Marion the Medicaid coverage she needed.

But, I think back to that first diagnosis...that doctor we never saw before in his neatly pressed lab jacket saying she had cancer. He gave us a phone number to call and that was it. Later that night, at home, I went on a cancer support website and asked a few people if the hospital helps out in finding funding or if you have to come up with a way to do it. I was told in no uncertain terms...you're on your own.

We weren't on our own once we found NJCEED as they have done everything and more. I couldn't be happier that there is a governmental body our there actually helping people get into treatment. Without the NJCEED program...I really don't know where we'd be.

So, it's been four months since this whole thing started. An routine ER trip to be told not to worry...Marion's going through menopause...and here's some hormones to help out. Initially, honestly, that's all I thought this was. The "change of life". I had no idea just how much this would in fact change.

As I sit on the cusp of these treatments, I don't know how I feel. Marion has gotten a bit worse, I guess. She was nauseous today. She's been feeling kind of run down lately. I still think that had a lot to do with the pelvic exam last Monday...but, I don't have a MD, remember? I don't know if I should be hopeful...because I know these treatments are going to be pretty extreme. 5 days a week of radiation with a chemotherapy double shot on Mondays...I don't know how she'll be feeling. I don't know if this will work at all. I honestly am numb. I don't know how to feel. Is she dying right now as I type this? I don't know.

It's hard for me to express these thoughts into vocalizations. I am hopeful the treatments will have resounding results. It's just that uncertainty that messes with me. All I can do is hope for the best no matter how cliche that sounds.

I'll close with a wish I made for my birthday. I created an online event to donate money to Stand Up 2 Cancer. I'm hoping for the modest goal of $500. Earlier this evening, someone donated $100. I don't know who it was because they donated anonymously, but wow. If you're reading this and would like to donate to a good cause, click the link.

Here's some information on what SU2C does.