....a brain tumor says "I'll be back." It's not a matter of IF, it's just a matter of WHEN.
And the when is now, unfortunately. And, we've named it Arnold.
Hubs says he knew something was off. He'd been having some weird things going on, and somehow, he just knew that the tumor was growing again.
When he came home from his a, I said "SO?!" And when he said "Do you want to come sit down?" I knew what he was about to tell me. But I saw his prescription for chemotherapy drugs before he had a chance to say another word.
After breaking down and crying for about twenty minutes, I gathered my wits about me and started asking questions about the game plan.
The good news:
The growth is tiny. 3mm. So tiny that it's only visible on one slice of the MRI. We caught it early.
Chemo treatment is for two months to see if that helps wipe out the new growth, with monthly MRIs to monitor. The last round of chemo was once a month, for an entire year, and that was after a surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible. This kept it at bay for over two years.
If these chemo drugs don't do the trick, there is a cocktail of drugs he can try. But that one involves being hooked up to an IV for treatments (the previous treatment, and the current one, are pills, taken by mouth every day for seven days, then three weeks off, then another seven days).
Another surgery could be on the horizon, depending on what happens with the chemo.
Radiation therapy is not on the table at this point, as we've decided that is a tool of last resort, since you only get one shot at it with a brain tumor.
Thanks to those of you that emailed to check on me. We went and blew off a little steam at the range this morning with our nephews and my FIL. I should've made some brain tumor targets to take with us.
So. That's where we're at. Motherfuckingbastardbraintumor. I want you gone. For good.
I want my husband back.