CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SIX WEEKS LATER----JO'S TREATMENT (FRIDAY)
Jo began her treatment this week. The babies are six weeks old, and Jo's oncologist, Dr. Hall, allowed her to breastfeed for six weeks. It was rather bittersweet. She nursed the other three until they were about a year old, and she only got six weeks with the twins. Fortunately, the cancer is slow growing, so it hadn't spread much since the twins were born. For that six weeks, we concentrated on being a family. The twins are healthy, Matt and Marin are doing well, and Jo is incredible. What did I do to deserve such a beautiful and remarkable woman?
Tuesday morning, I drove Jo to the hospital. She was admitted for a 24 hour slow drip of chemotherapy. I held her hand while the nurse administered the IV. Welcome to the long road of cancer treatment. The possible side effects scare me, nausea, fatigue, fever, chills, hair loss, loss of appetite. I prayed she was one of the ones who tolerated the medication well. After the nurse started the IV drip, I crawled into bed with her and held her until she fell asleep. We didn't say anything; words would have gotten in the way.
I lost my job last week; the company was downsizing, so I got cut. Somehow that doesn't seem so horrible. I hope I can get another one soon, so that I can provide for my family, but in the scheme of things, it's not horrible. I've got money in savings and we get to keep our health insurance, so we'll be okay for awhile. Plus, this gives me time to care for Jo. Both my mom and her mom offered to come stay with us, but right now, I'd rather it just be the six of us. We may need someone later, but now, it's just us.
Jo slept most of the day, which was good, because she needs as much rest as she can get. I called Matt while she slept to check on him and to fill him in on how his mother was doing. The next door neighbor is helping Matt care for the kids. She used to be a nanny, so she's quite experienced with children. Matt, Melina, and Lanny are upstairs working on a history project and will stay the night. Around midnight, Jo woke up doubled over. "Sam, help!" She promptly threw up. "Oh, God!" she cried. My heart broke in half. I called the nurse, who helped me get her cleaned up. He gave us a couple pans in case Jo threw up again, which she did. It was an incredibly long night. By the time the sun came up, she was exhausted and finally drifted back off to sleep. She got her IV out around noon. Dr. Hall wanted to keep her another night to make sure she tolerated the medication okay. We were warned that she might get sick, but as long as she didn't have any severe side effects, she could go home the next day. Severe? There's side effects more severe than this? I've never seen Jo as sick as this. She looks so pale and frail. I wanted to hold her and make everything go away, but she said it hurt to be touched. She managed to get a few hours sleep here and there. It's going to be a long road.
Dr. Hall released Jo yesterday morning. I bundled her up in her favorite comforter and the nurse wheeled her to the car. Matt was in school and the neighbor had the babies, so the house was quiet when we returned home. I picked her up out of the car, carried her to our bedroom, and lay her in our bed. She was asleep the whole time. I hope this regimine works. She'll go into the hospital in another month for another 24 hour round. She returns to the clinic next week for a lower dose of chemo. Oh, God, I hope I don't lose her.
This morning, I asked my next door neighbor to watch Jo and the babies for a couple hours. Matt was in school and Jo was asleep. I needed to get out for ahile. I drove to Lizzie's grave; I felt I needed to be with my oldest daughter. I put fresh carnations in the vase and cleared out the old ones. "Lizzie, I miss you, kiddo. Things are crazy at home. You've got a new brother and sister, yes, twins. They're an absolute delight. Marin's a year old and is a bundle of energy. She reminds me of you, princess. I know I don't normally visit in the mornings, but Lizzie, I need your help. I don't know if there's anyone in heaven you can talk to, but we need help. I've lost my job. My boss decided to downsize, so my job got cut. We're okay right now, but the money's gonna run out real quick if I don't find something soon. To add to the mix, sweetheart, your mother has ovarian cancer. She started chemo this week, and it's been hard on her. I'm afraid, Lizzie. I think she's going to have a hard time of it. She looks so small and weak; I've never seen her this sick before. I can't lose her, baby, I just can't. I'm sorry to burden you, but I've got to be strong at home, for your mother, Matt, and the babies. Oh, kiddo, I do miss you a lot. I love you, princess. I need to get back to your mother."