Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Day 19: June 25, 2019

A question we all seem to get asked a lot (or maybe it's just me because people figure I operate in a numbers world), is what's the prognosis? As in what is the % survival rate. How good are Oliver's chances?  This question always catches me off guard because it seems so redundant at this point.


Yesterday morning, on our way to the airport, the kids and I heard on the news (and then from Justin) that a young mom was killed in an accident on the road by our house leading to Redmond (a sketchy road where people tend to be complete idiots). She had her little kids in the car with her, including an infant, who are in critical condition. This is literally awful news, obviously, but I feel like the prognosis question would be similar to asking this woman that morning: what do you believe your chances are of dying this morning?


For any one of us, we could walk out of the door and get hit by a truck on any given day but if we focused on that, we would never go anywhere in the world. For Oliver, with a disease and measurable results of cure, there are numbers to support how people with his type of cancer have fared. But just like the rest of us, the results can vary BY PERSON. It almost feels like if we focus on that number, it brings in an element of negatively. And there is absolutely zero room for any sort of negativity in this battle.


I try to answer this question graciously, as we all do, and mutter something about how his prognosis was 50-90% originally at the 1s stage, but when the cancer spread up his spine/kidneys/lungs, the staging increased and obviously the prognosis had an adverse impact. But again, what's the point of focusing on it? We know testicular cancer is largely treatable. We know Lance Armstrong had this same cancer that spread even to his brain, with the same chemo, and has been cancer free for 20+ years. As I was thinking about this mom yesterday on the way to the airport, I couldn't help but revisit how many times I have been asked about prognosis in the last few weeks, and how it is just a question that I don't love getting. The point is this: his prognosis is CANCER. And we are fighting like hell to kick its ass. However that ends up looking like, I have no doubt that we will succeed. Sometimes a WIN comes in different forms, but we will win.


Day 19 was again another much needed good day in the chain leading up to round 2. I think they do this intentionally to let you have some recovery prior to the next round. Almost a mental and physical reset. The kids and I headed to the airport first thing yesterday morning. As I mentioned in a previous post, we had scheduled our annual summer visit to Kansas City, but Justin dropped out for obvious reasons (if something happens- it is truly best if there are two people there to tag team with Oliver). Instead of our Kentucky trip as planned, I plan to fly back to Seattle for a few days. Hoping that Oliver will still be doing well enough during those days, and Justin and I can have a little bit of time to decompress, even if it is just a night or a bike ride- it's more than we have had in months! And we can possibly look at some long neglected house projects. And if anything happens with Oliver, then there's three of us to pass the baton.


I heard from Colleen early in the morning who said it was an uneventful night with no THC even, and OG was up bright and early.



First up on their list: shopping for some things that Oliver was craving, as in food! Oliver weighed in yesterday and was 135.4 pounds... so he has GAINED weight. YES!


Meanwhile, I was earning multiple bottles of wine taking two kids solo on a trip. My goodness that is a workout! It doesn't help that Alaska has some sort of weird off site terminal thing going on at SeaTac wherein they BUS you to the plane in the middle of some air field. They crammed about 150 people on to a bus for about 20 minutes to take us to the plane. Not fun!








The kids actually did pretty well, although they decided at about 2 hours in that they had no more use for their tablets. So the last hour I think I heard "how many more minutes" no less than 60 times. And then in the last 20-30 minutes, Owen starting belting out "I'm a cheerleader" and Bennett starting singing "One small voice" at the top of his lungs. It was... melodious. Sorry to all the passengers around us, but I kept them reasonable on the flight for 90% of the flight, and things just deteriorated at the end when I basically said screw it. 90% = A for effort!



Meanwhile back at home, Justin was able to work some and go for a bike ride with the kids he trains.


Upon getting to KC, we got the kids settled in and fed, and of course, played!



 






We then headed out to a splash park to burn off some energy. It's pretty hot and humid out here, so this was just the ticket last night. It took mom going in to show the boys it was fun. It felt pretty good.










I heard from the OG support team back in the PNW, and heard that Oliver did TWO walks yesterday! Yes! Also, he has continued to lose hairs. Case in point (look at forehead):




Nick also came to visit again yesterday. These recovery weeks are great for visitors!



Uncle Jordan also came to visit for dinner.


More proof of chemo and hair loss.


On one of his walks yesterday, Oliver gave us his own rendition of #oliverstrong. This is the reality and what we are all fighting for! #oliverstrong


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