I saw Dr. B today, and we finally had “the talk.” She says there are no good treatments left for me, and that the awful side effects will outweigh any survival benefit. She knows how important it is to me to not spend my remaining days seriously ill and/or in the hospital, so I trust her. She said I can try xeloda again, but that drug was horrible for me, which is why I quit to begin with, and she said she doubts it would extend my life by more than maybe a couple of months. So the current plan is to get the stent surgery on Thursday, and then meet up with her the Thursday after to tell her how I wish to proceed. I already know I’m going to stop treatment and transfer to hospice care.
Telling the kids was just fucking awful, and it broke my heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shattered. I held them while they sobbed, because there’s nothing else I can do, and I hate it. I hate that they are heartbroken.
The pain tonight is terrible, and I’m scared. I need to make some calls tomorrow and get some shit figured out. I’m trying not to have a panic attack.
Despite everything, I’m more at peace with this decision that it might seem from what I’ve just written. I knew this was coming. I woke up today knowing it was judgment day. I just can’t believe we got here so quickly.
I’ve told a few people personally, but I’m too tired to stay on top of the texts, so my next step is posting here and eventually to social media.
My family tonight (after pizza, cake, and TV):
I love them so incredibly much and I’m going to say it over and over until my literal dying breath.