Day 1
Diagnosis: Rectal Cancer. Joe is 36 years old. The weirdest part of the experience so far is the way the Gastroenterologist smiled when he said "we found a tumor!" I think his professional interest got the better of him. Here's what we know so far: 4 cm. tumor, almost certainly malignant. Dr Keate said the tumor had likely been there for at least 3 years, and that based on Joe's symptoms and level of pain it has probably spread.
Day 4
Joe goes for his CT scan. He had to drink 2 liters of barium before going. The experience made a bit more palatable by about a half cup of hershey's syrup. I'm not sure why I'm surprised by his bravery, but I am. He is as courageous a man as I've ever met. Not to mention how attentive and loving and hopeful and warm hearted he is.
My father's girlfriend told me today not to lose myself in this struggle. It struck me then that I'm in no danger of that- I'm FINDING myself in this struggle. So far, at least. My eyes are open, blinders off. My relationship with Joe has been complicated, and I've been hesitant to give myself completely to it. Sensible, as I'm still married (separated for about a year) with a son who's almost 3. Suddenly, though, my hesitancies seem silly. Joe's beauty is obvious. His capacity for love is unsurpassed. I don't want him to die. I'll do whatever I can to keep him alive.
Joe has no health insurance. Cancer without health insurance. My role in this process will be to navigate the system, act as his advocate, do the research, question the doctors, and insist he get the care he needs even though he lacks insurance. So far, the care he has received through
Bon Secours has been kind and thorough. Thank God for the doctors who take
Access Now. If/when we come out of this, I will donate to that program. I'll donate a lot. For now, though, all money is being conserved for battle.