Bargaining - the little big things

What's it going to be?

So what would you do?  Seriously.... really think about it.  I used to say things like 'I'd cash it all in and go to Fiji'  or 'Go to Italy and work on a farm', and I meant it.  But not really.  Truth is, I would stop reading scans, cancel all doctor's appointments and buy some Donald Pliner boots and a case of fine red wines. Then I'd probably come hang out with one or several of you and just gypsy around until I couldn't. 

Our oncologist finally said the words that echo our original diagnosis, and it's happening.  Now.  Lots of marijuana, essiac and herbal remedies lie ahead, but I feel like Terry's faith in any therapy is halfhearted at best.  He says 'This has to work' as if he's threatening a consequence. I guess he is. 

It's the 'Or else!' must become a possibility in both our minds before we can discuss it.  My attempts to talk about what a good death would look like for him have been thwarted, and I get it. But it hovers like a pregnant storm cloud and I'd rather have an umbrella over both of us when it lets loose.

Negotiations

And so we bargain.  A bowl of ice cream.  A break from the constant haze of pot intoxication. What movie we watch (he may never watch another documentary) and what therapies we will or will not try.  We bargain about what dinner will consist of, who will cook what and what method they will use.  

He did finally speak to Samantha, telling her that she needed to figure out how to pack some of her stuff and bring it to our house for the weekend rather than opting out in order to stay with 'her stuff'.  I'm glad he did, and hopes she grasped his real message.  It was more of a command than a negotiation, however.  She did respond by informing us that we will be without her again this weekend... it's homecoming, don't you know?  

Sigh. We all miss her presence.  He tries to shrug it off, but he misses her awfully.  My negotiations with her mother seemed fruitful at the time, but I can now see that I lost in bargaining about how to approach the kids about what's going on.  As the non-mom, it looks like that might be my fate going forward as well.  I literally have no say, no rights, no place if that's how she wants it.  I'd hate to have to wait til they turn 18 to be in their lives.  :(   

As for bargaining with T, I'm giving up lots of ground these days.  He's won many negotiations that never even took place except in my mind.  Yes.  He's a control fiend.  He deserves to feel that he's still in control of some facet of his life, and I can help foster that at times.  Picking my battles is keeping me grounded.

Still crazy

Don't worry, I'm still myself.   Proof: I am wrestling mightily with a strong urge to put up every single holiday decoration we own.  Yes, all holidays at the same time.  It just seems like a thing I should do, but I don't want to set off any alarm bells.   

Then again... why the hell not?    

Bargaining: Revising the goal

Go, Fight, Win!

What once was our singular,  non-negotiable, only acceptable outcome was a clear scan and a  pronouncement that Terry is cancer-free.  Cured.  Healed.  Also acceptable: complete remission.  We put our heads down and charged toward this finish line with a decent amount of commitment and gusto. 

On second thought

Revision, at this point, will serve us better than fantasy.  In recent discussions with Terry, various doctors and God himself, I've adjusted my request to better reflect reality.  The combination of therapies we are currently undertaking is particularly brutal and it's obvious that no human being can tolerate endless cycles of toxic chemotherapy.  As we approach the end of our fourth round, I can tell that he will eventually refuse oncology treatments; and probably soon.

His ashen complexion and frailty are obvious, and are the unavoidable result of the oncology treatments.  Chemo is purposeful poisoning, and that is a fact. It works for millions of people who have cancer, and often gives those patients a whole lifetime of cancer-free living.

Herein lies the rub.

From the very beginning, we have been told that we will not be one of those aforementioned folks for which chemotherapy and radiation can work.  I want so much for both of us to unhear the words of our surgeon at Mayo Clinic, "You will not die of parotid cancer, you will die of lung cancer.  Perhaps you have a year to live at best.  This cancer moves - and quickly.  It is highly aggressive and does not respond well to chemotherapy.  Understand that chemotherapy will only improve your quality of life, not extend it.  Surgery is not an option for you, and you should get your affairs in order." 

With that bit of information, why would we continue to subject him to the torture of chemo?  Two things come to mind: Samantha and Chase.  If he could have another year or two by continuing chemotherapy, there would be no question about continuing.  Every single medical professional we've seen, however, agrees with our initial prognosis and so far the scans bear this out as well. 

All in: Betting on Cannabis

There are no statistics, no clinical trials, no human studies... only thousands of anecdotal, firsthand stories of miraculous triumphs over cancer using marijuana.  I've spent the past two months exploring every aspect of medical marijuana's efficacy on cancer cells, and you cannot imagine how many facets there really are.  Regulatory issues, various strains, compounds, delivery methods and hundreds of home-spun regimens are freely available for your perusal.  Every day this burgeoning industry makes huge strides toward long overdue medical legitimacy.  

At present, however, it's the wild west out there.  We've chosen to pursue Rick Simpson's approach to cancer treatment, which will be discussed in many future posts. The idea, however, is to get 60 grams of super-concentrated hemp oil with the highest possible CBD levels into Terry's body in a 90 day period.  For now, suffice it to say that we are on day 45 and have managed to flood his system with approximately 42 grams. Is  it working?  Sure. It just has to be, doesn't it? 

In summary: Bargaining for a realistic outcome 

Pie in the sky is probably delicious - when it falls to earth.  I've never heard of anyone having their share of sky-pie, and you haven't either.  Why?  Exactly.

On this day, I bargained hard.  Not with Terry or any of our doctors, but with God.

 My pitch:  I will revise my expectations to better serve all relevant parties in this troubling situation.  I will work toward mitigating the angst of Terry's children, both of our parents and siblings, close friends and the man himself by refocusing on managing cancer with cannabis and strongly suggest exploring a low-dose option or entirely stopping chemotherapy along with lowering the frequency of scans in the future. Less monitoring, more living.

Also, Lord, I will fold the laundry neatly and put it away once I figure out where everything goes. I will begin volunteering at Feed My Starving Children regularly and renew my efforts to find a worship service that really speaks to both of us..  I will meditate every day and re-commit to an exercise routine without interruption.  I will keep up on my written thank you notes (and work on improving my penmanship) and reduce my daily cheese intake by half.  

On your end, I would like to receive some reassurance that there is a way to manage Terry's cancer as we would a chronic condition.  If complete remission is a fantasy, then please slow the growth of his existing tumors to a crawl, or better yet, stop them in their savage, greedy tracks.  We will faithfully administer ridiculously high doses of RSO and implement a new daily vaporizer/oral THC regimen.to give his body the tools to do this work.  Please fully permit the medicine you provided for humans centuries ago to do its healing work and stop the progress of this cancer. I would also appreciate liberal increases in my capacities for patience, courage and wisdom and inter-family communication.   

So, is it a deal?  Good. I think it would motivate greater effort from him to think of his cancer as manageable instead of waiting for a miracle while wasting away in the high-dose chemo chair.

PS.  If a complete eradication of all traces of cancer is in the offing, I would go BIG.  Just name your terms, Lord, and I'll meet them. 

Now that would be a bargain!