Wait. What?

I got to the ER in time to hear the nurse telling him that the oncologist would see him the next day.  The oncologist?? He’s here for some bleeding and a gallbladder attack.  Why does he need an oncologist?  What did I miss?  If I’d been there sooner, I probably wouldn’t have missed that important detail, but somebody had to stay home with the three little ones!  The little ones…  They aren’t even old enough to remember him if he doesn’t make it!  I don’t have a job!  I just had a baby, and my daddy just died.  What do you mean, “The oncologist will see him the next day”???

The oncologist.  My husband, who is more active than I could ever imagine being, had an appointment with an oncologist.  Ugh.  I really don’t like that word.  Fortunately, the oncologist was very compassionate and super knowledgeable.  But even this super knowledgeable doctor couldn’t figure out what type of cancer my husband has.  It’s in his liver, but is it liver cancer?  It’s in his lungs, but we’re pretty sure it isn’t lung cancer.  It’s been over two months, and we still don’t know what type of cancer it is.

For two months, I have watched my healthy, active, talkative 195 pound husband change into someone who can’t talk without coughing and can’t walk to the bathroom without almost passing out.  I’ve watched him go from 195 pounds of mostly muscle with a little bit of a belly to 225 pounds of skin, bone, and fluid.  His liver is only functioning at about twenty-five percent, so he can’t get rid of the extra water.  He is so swollen, he can’t walk.  And there’s nothing I can do to help.  He’s going to die, and I can’t change that.

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