The Cancer Diary: Chapter Twelve – Anti DepressionJune 26, 2013
The Cancer Diary: Chapter Fourteen – TransitionJuly 9, 2013
Yes, it’s hard to catch a breath, and I mean that literally as well as metaphorically. It looks like we’ve reached the end of the road with the GB4000 Mopa electro-magnetic frequency treatments. Max is more and more dependent on oxygen. To use the machine around his oxygen generator is too danger. Before last week the oxygen concentration in his blood was close to 100%, between 96-98%. By the end of last week it was 92%. Today, 90%. So, it’s becoming impossible to take him off of oxygen long enough to use the Mopa. And why bother anyway? The machine seemed to work well at knocking back the infections in his system, but it certainly hasn’t done much to destroy and conquer Max’s cancer. Not only is the breathing a problem, but so is the bleeding, which has begun anew. What to do? What to do?
I’m keeping Max on the nutritional program, but even that might be a fruitless endeavor. I hate to sound so pessimistic, but I can’t help thinking it might prolong his agony rather than help him to live longer. That I might be making him more miserable rather than improving his quality of life. What to do? What to do?
I feel like I’m trapped in a room with little air and no sunlight. And everywhere I turn, all I see is darkness and despair. Today we had the discussion I’ve avoided for so long. We spoke about what Max would want from me in the event of his faltering health and death. We spoke about not taking any extraordinary measures. About cremation verses burial. About our will and trust. Although I thought I knew enough to make the correct decisions, I needed to confirm my impressions with him. I know enough now. I will do what he wants. Still, I can’t help feeling overwhelming sorrow. I’m losing my best friend, and there is nothing more I can do than I’ve already done. I’ve rarely felt so helpless and hopeless. What to do? What to do?
Nothing new, I’m afraid.