Friday, June 1, 2012

Collin and I kicked off our day with an inpromptu trip to the grocery store for a jello breakfast this morning. The poor kid was starving, but he was only allowed clear liquids and Jello until 10 am. Unfortunately I didn't think to make sure I had Jello in the fridge ahead of time, so after Neya left for school, away we went. After that, Collin was much happier. His MRI was scheduled for noon, and thankfully they were running right on schedule. Everything went very smoothly.

Collin's oncologist called this evening after Collin's neurosurgeon had a chance to review the scan. All of the tumors enhanced much brighter this time, so they were easier to see. There isn't much change, so they're considering him "stable." However, Dr. Comito wants to be a bit more aggressive than the maintenance therapy, so we are stopping that for now, and next Tuesday Collin will start on another oral chemo (Temodar) for five days. On Friday, June 8, he'll be admitted to the hospital for the weekend for a round of Cytoxan. He'll probably come home Sunday. It should be just like the round of chemo he did just before Thanksgiving. Then his counts will drop, we'll once again do the Neupogen injections at home, and he'll most likely be re-admitted to the hospital a week later with a neutropenic fever. Of course that weekend is Neya's dance recital, but my parents will be here for it, so it'll be nice to have the extra help.

Dr. Comito will send the MRI to MD Anderson on Monday, and Collin will have another MRI in about a month. Hopefully that will show a good response to the chemo, just as he had last December following the round of chemo in November. Then probably around mid July we will head to Houston, where we will spend the rest of the summer getting radiation.

While I'm happy today's scan was stable, I'm once again overwhelmed at the thought of what lies ahead of us these next few months. Just this morning I was thinking it's time to trim Collin's hair (at least around his ears), and now tonight I realize between the chemo and the radiation, he'll lose it once again. The upcoming hospitalizations will be short, and we'll be in familiar surroundings with our favorite caregivers, but it's still stressful and tiring. Then when I think about the (at least) seven weeks away from home, family, and friends, the trip we had hoped to make to the beach, the swim lessons and dance class I had signed Neya up for, Collin's therapies that will again be put on hold, and wonder what Collin will be like after we radiate his brain and spine, I feel...sad. How much more will cancer take from us?