It was February 2010. We were on our way to the hospital to meet with the oncologist and discuss the available treatment options. Up until now, only his mom had been going with him to his appointments for moral support but her attitude was pissing me off so I decided to start going with him myself. The last time they'd been to the hospital they couldn't find the oncology department and canceled the appointment because my sweetie was tired of walking. They had rescheduled and went shopping to get stuff for his road trip instead. I suggested that they could have maybe grabbed a wheelchair or something since it was such a long walk. It was just a cop out though - his mom didn't think he should do anything but lay down and keep increasing the pain meds until he died. She seemed to have the idea that if he didn't fight it, he'd die a peaceful death and stay pretty.
We arrived at the hospital and she parked in the main ramp. It turned out that the oncology department was on the opposite side of the building - a city block away. As soon as we stepped off the elevator, a man in a blazer stepped forward, greeted us and asked if we needed directions. I wondered when hospitals got doormen, and asked him for a wheelchair and directions to the oncology department. Blazer guy produced a wheelchair and when my sweetie went to sit in it he tried to stop him assuming we wanted it for his mom. I immediately piped up - 'Yo dude, he's the patient - let him sit, eh?'. Blazer guy apologized and insisted on pushing the chair and walking us all the way to oncology.
Now we were sitting in a consultation room with an oncologist talking about treatment options. His mom was taking notes as usual - she always takes notes. I have no idea if she ever found any of her notes useful but I think maybe it made her feel like she was paying attention better. I was sitting quietly on the couch next to my sweetie, listening. The doctor was recommending a combination of chemotherapy and radiation and was telling us the possible side effects as his mom scribbled them down in her notebook.
She began asking him questions about the treatment and saying things like "Won't his hair fall out?" and "Chemo will just make him feel icky - why would he want to go through all that just to die in two months anyway?". The doctor seemed surprised by her questions - he had just told us that my sweetie could add significant time back to his life if he tried treating it. He repeated himself and said that this is what he would do if it was him or anyone in his family. He went on to say that although there's no hope of curing it completely - and she interrupted, gesturing at me. She said "See, she doesn't get that - she's still holding out hope for a cure." Ugh! The doctor finished his sentence saying 'we can seriously slow it down which can offer better pain management and add time to your life.'
I was furious with his mom, her attitude, and now she was sitting there talking about me as if I weren't there or could not speak for myself. I had heard enough and excused myself to go grab another cup of coffee. A moment later she stepped out of the room so the doctor and my sweetie could talk and came over wanting to 'comfort' me (translation - she wanted she hug me) but I was angry. She had talked about me as though she thought I was delusional or just didn't 'get' it. I knew there wasn't a cure but I also didn't think he should give up without a fight! Why would she discourage her son from getting treatment?! What kind of mother would not encourage her child to fight for his life?! I remember angrily saying to her "They said this it the way they treat it - why are you discouraging the chemo?" and stormed off after my sweetie who was being taken to an examination room. After the exam, the doctor ordered some new scans and set us up with an appointment to get them. We said goodbye and left.
I decided to push the wheelchair on the return trip. I am a deceptively fast walker and having had more than enough of his mom I quickly left her in the dust. (I'm short, my sweetie was tall - early on I learned to walk fast to keep up with him.) On the ride home my sweetie was saying he didn't really like the hospital we were just at or the doctors there. We were passing the St. Paul Cancer Center and I asked if we couldn't go there instead. They were affiliated with a different hospital, they were much closer to the house and they had better parking. He echoed the question at his mom - 'Any reason I can't get treated there instead?' and she said she'd look into it when she got home.
Later we went and got the ordered scans and she called on that same afternoon with appointment info for the new place. They said the scans he just got could be transferred over to them and they could begin treatment right away. I said I would handle driving him to his appointment so his mom didn't have to, but she said she wanted to come along anyway. She'd just meet us there.
As luck would have it, she couldn't make it to the appointment after all and I was secretly relieved. It was a sunny day, the waiting area was warm and bright and the staff was friendly. We went in with a positive attitude and met with a radiologist who matter-of-factly told us he expected to make my sweetie feel better in time for summer. He prescribed the same treatment options the other doctor had told us about and I remember noticing how much more relaxed the atmosphere was during this appointment. My sweetie asked when we could get started and the doctor said 'We can start today if you like.' What? Really? Today? Now? My sweetie said 'Right on man, let's get started!' and the next thing I knew I was sitting on a bench in a hallway waiting while he got a scan to calibrate the machine. I met the other people who would be treating him and we got appointments set. For the next six weeks he would receive daily doses of radiation to his right lung and shoulder. He would receive chemotherapy once a week after he met with his new oncologist.
We went home feeling hopeful for the first time in over a month.
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