On July 15th, 2011, we sat around Mike’s parents’ house contemplating whether or not to leave for Orcas Island in the San Juans that day or the next. Mike had been feeling crummy all day so Mike’s dad and I finished the puzzle on the kitchen counter. Mike and I took some time to pray about how he felt, and within a few minutes he got up and felt ready to leave. We didn’t leave until about 6pm but we loaded up the car and Mike wanted to drive so he didn’t smoke any pot because he would have fallen asleep. We chose to drive the Highway 2 (Davenport) route, although in hindsight, I have no idea why. Maybe we’d never gone that way and this was a time for firsts. Although Mike was incredibly sore, he wanted to drive, and it was the first time he’d taken control like that in a long time. It was a great feeling, like old times. We followed behind his parents and I spent much of the drive rubbing his ribs on the side because they hurt so much. Of course, I figured the cancer had made it to those bones or the muscles in between them. Along the way, we stopped in the wheat fields because Mike wanted to take pictures of the moon. We all stopped in a little town called Cashmere and stayed the night in a hotel, hiding Griffey in the process, because we assumed dogs weren’t allowed.
The next morning Mike drove us onto the ferry where we all met his sister, Laura. Upon arriving on Orcas Island, which is beautiful, by the way, we followed our printed directions to the house we were all renting. It ended up being the very last house on a shaded, cedar and fern-fringed long dirt driveway on a hillside overlooking the ocean. We unpacked our cars and settled into the beautiful home. Mike’s other sister, Trisha, and her family arrived to their campground they were staying at late that night, so we would see them the next day. Mike decided to crack open a beer, desperate to experience vacation in the same manner he would’ve before he got sick. He regretted it quickly, feeling bloated and sick halfway into it. I felt so bad for him that he couldn’t enjoy one of his simple pleasures. That night we had dinner at the table, but Mike couldn’t eat so he lied on the couch in the living room. This would become a familiar scenario on the trip. Mike’s parents love to cook and Mike had always enjoyed their meals so much. It killed me seeing him off by himself while we’d be enjoying fish, shrimp, and scallop dinners. He couldn’t even be around it, let alone eat it. I felt so guilty.
Overnight, during our first night there, Mike’s left lower lip and chin went numb. He woke up shocked that he had no sensation in a specific region on the left side below his mouth. I was terrified. Against my better judgment, we did some research and the possible causes could have been spider bite, abscessed tooth, or cancer metastasis to the mandible. I knew the likely cause. My worst fear was that the cancer would spread above his neck. As if just preserving his head and mind would be enough to keep him alive. I figured the cancer had spread to his brain causing pressure on a nerve to his face or it had gone to the bones of his face. We spent that day in a state of fear and anxiety. We went in the hot tub for a little bit, went grocery shopping in the little town, I made an apple pie, and then everyone came over for a fabulous dinner that Mike couldn’t enjoy. He sat on the deck watching seals play in the ocean with his niece, Jessi.
That evening Mike, his sisters Laura and Trisha, his brother-in-law, Dan, and I spent hours in the hot tub talking and laughing. It was one of those nights that will never be forgotten. Dan revealed to us that when he and Laura’s husband, Erik, were moving stuff out of our house when Mike got diagnosed, our giant sectional couch fell off the trailer onto the highway. Luckily there were no serious ramifications, so we were able to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Then Mike told Trisha and Dan that after he got better, he wanted us to have a house built on their property so we’d be neighbors. I loved that he could still get excited about the future and be positive. It was always “when I get better” not “if.” We talked about all getting a similar “family tattoo.” That became our next project. I spent hours over the next month researching designs, drawing things, etc. trying to find a design we could all be okay with having permanently on our bodies.
Overnight, Mike had excruciating pain in his jaw in addition to the numbness. I got him ice to put on it, but we only got a couple hours of sleep. The next morning I emailed Dr. Ribas about his symptoms. True to his usual nature, Dr. Ribas responded within a couple hours and told us it was probably a Bell’s Palsy that had been a noted (although rare) side effect of PLX and recommended he stop taking it for 3-4 days. I can’t tell you how excited we were to get that email. To know that it was probably a benign side effect instead of the cancer spreading was the best news we could’ve expected.
That afternoon everyone went whale watching. Including Griffey. We bundled up in the provided coats and watched Orcas surfacing around the boat. We toasted marshmallows on the beach during sunset when we got back.
The next few days seemed like a battle. Mike would use his vaporizer, eat a hamburger or something, and then puke it all up. There were a couple days where he threw up about 8 times each day. He slept a lot too, just to escape from feeling so shitty. We walked down to the rocky beach from the house and saw hundreds of starfish. The short little walk took a lot of energy for him. The soft bed in the house seemed to really hurt his back, so in the morning Mike would literally lie on the floor for like two hours trying to make his back feel better. I noted that his pulse was thumping in his neck harder again. Also, he was twitchy and jumpy in his sleep. It was something that I’d noticed since he’d been diagnosed 3 months earlier. The twitchiness in his sleep seemed to be a reflection of how well he was doing. The worse he was feeling, the more he’d have little twitches in his sleep. And maybe it was related to a higher pain medication dose.
Mike was already looking skinny, but it was that week that he started to look sickly. He was feeling a little self conscious about it because he knew he was losing weight but couldn’t help it. A couple people in his family had asked him separately if he thought getting IV nutrition was a possibility. I felt so bad for him because he clearly was trying his hardest to eat. And Mike obsessed over things in his normal life, so during the cancerous part of his life, he sort of obsessed over eating. It was the one thing he tried to control but couldn’t.
One day we went down to Trish and Dan’s camp at the beach where Mike and I got on the little boat with them to pull the crab pots up. Afterwards we ate ice cream cones with the kids then all drove to Moran State Park and walked around. I climbed up the lookout tower at Mt. Constitution to see all the San Juan Islands. Mike was having a pretty decent day that day.
After a week of Orcas Island, we packed up, took some family pictures on the deck, then Mike drove us back. We stopped in Wenatchee and stayed the night in a hotel and went out to dinner with his parents at Red Robin after which he puked up some of his dinner. Before bed, he sat in the hotel chair swaying and falling asleep as he used his vaporizer. I can still see the look on his face. The droopiness of his eyes, his strange frowning mouth he had when he was drifting in and out of consciousness. None of these facial expressions existed before he had cancer. He seemed so little and helpless. Nothing like the husband I had known before. I felt nothing but the need to take care of him in every way possible.
The next day we made it home and Mike started experiencing a new ache and tightness in one of his calves. There was always something. Not one day passed where Mike could be symptom free and truly enjoy himself.
Please follow and like us:
Comments
Post a Comment