In bad news, the surgeons weren’t able to reverse my ileostomy last Friday. Instead, they gave me a new and improved one. It splutters somewhat more than Bilbo did. I have named it Krakatoa.
In more bad news, the supplemental exploratory surgery did not end well. The cancer has definitely recurred, and it has recurred so soon that the prognosis is . . . not good. I don’t mind telling you that we shed some tears.
I will be cogitating this week, while recovering from surgery under the redhead’s loving care, about how to move forward. We have four options.
Option #1 is to pursue no further treatment and to let nature take its course. Okay, this sounded idiotic even as I was writing it. We’re not anywhere near there yet. So let’s move on to Option #2.
Option #2 is to participate in an experimental drug trial. This sounds like it might be fun.
Option #3 is to start different chemotherapy with two drugs in a combination recently approved by the FDA, with promising results. One drug happens once per month, and the other happens twice per month. Already, this sounds more user-friendly than the weekly dense-dose smackdown that turned the tide last year. There’s a catch, of course. The second drug has some potentially nasty side effects. But like the experimental trial, this regimen has a real chance of extending my life. And oh how I do love life.
Option #4 is to start with Option #3, and if it’s not working, then switch to Option #2, provided it’s still open.
Hmm. I may need a spreadsheet.
In good news, though, all of the options come with wine.
We are up at our mountain cabin in Angel Fire, processing all of this and making our decisions. Love and hugs on this beautiful summer day.