MRI Shows The Need For More Radiation



New tumor

  As we sit and wait in the waiting room, no words need to be spoken yet again, it's another shared moment between the two of us. We have come to the Clinic for results of Phil's MRI, and we both share concern over this  appointment.  Phil had an MRI on Monday, and Wednesday was the office visit with the Neurologist and Tumor Specialist to discuss the results. Part of this concern is self inflicted due to viewing the MRI CD that was provided to us in which we attempted to diagnosis him ourselves.  It is never a good idea to attempt to figure out an MRI when your not radiologist.  I would venture to say that looking at the CD  put more anxiety on me for this appointment, so I've decided not to do that again for sanity reasons.

While waiting I can only think of the conversation in the car on our way to the Cleveland Clinic.  Phil had asked if I was OK?  I replied, "I just don't want to see you go through another surgery."  He grabs my hand and states, "I just don't want to see my family go through this anymore, I will be fine."  The man is  always thinking of other's first, he just amazes me at times. 

"Phil Kenderes" the nurse stated loudly.  We get up and follow the nurse back to our assigned room number.  Before we get there, Phil is weighed.  We guess at the weight as we have done through this whole process of every appointment at the Clinic, he was closer this time so he won.  The nurse opens the door and we step in and we sit down in the chairs provided.  She proceeds as usual, "Do you have any pain?", "Where is it located?", and "On a scale of one to ten what would you rate it".  Phil answers the questions with a perplexed look on his face.  He never knows how to answer them accurately.  His pain is all over the place on a scale from one to ten.  He proceeds, she documents, takes his blood pressure, and then closes the door behind her.  And again we wait.

Finally after what feels like an excruciating long time in our assigned room, the doctor appears and is going to share with us the results of his MRI.  At this moment I am unsure if I really want those results and yet at the same time I do.  She is standing with her arms crossed, and leaning backwards against the counter.  That just happens to be one of my pet-peeves when your talking to a patient, sit down, and talk with us.  Enough of that, that's just something that irritates me, and I do like her as his doctor.  It's just at this moment I am finding anything that is irritating and going with it.  With arms crossed and leaning back on the sink, she states, "I have been reviewing your MRI, and there is an increase in activity of Myeloma throughout the spine, however, one area on C4 will need radiation."  I was relieved that at least it's not a surgical procedure involving a blade.  However, it's still increase in Myeloma cells eating away at his spine and yet again he will endure more radiation.  She reassures us that even though there is an increase in activity, the rest of the spine looks "stable".

As we leave Phil states, "Here we go again.", with the look of discouragement and anger on his face and Myeloma again peering back through his loving eyes.  It will again be several appointments just to get him ready for his stereo-tactic radial surgery.   The reason it takes time it that the radiation laser needs to be accurate and precise, so a mesh mask will need to be prepared for locking him down to the table.  Tatoos  will be placed on the mask and him for lining up laser.  It's a moment that I am thankful for treatment and yet I  feel angry again that Myeloma  is calling the shots. Once again I am reminded that "God is in control of this, not me, not Myeloma, but God".  I am writing for just one favor from you, will you pray for my husband. 

This is another picture
his spine.

Just another view.

I ask you to pray for strength, comfort, and that the radiation will kill this tumor.  Also, that the radiation will not cause any further damage to the spine.  That he will be provided with relief from pain, and peace  through this next phase of dealing with a new tumor.  God is in control of this but we appreciate your prayers.

Thank you,

It's Not in My Control

     Today, as I'm looking into my husbands usually brilliant, deep, hazel eyes, I'm trying to find a sign.  A sign of how the day is going go. I do this in the mornings of the days that I think Phil may be struggling. And sometimes I can see it peering back at me. It's ugliness, discouragement, depression, and pain all rolled into one. And as I see those terrible things deep in Phil's often soft, and loving eyes, sadly means that it's going to be another day of dealing with Multiple Myeloma.  It also means dealing with the never-ending pain that we have come to associate by a simple glance shared by the two of us, on an otherwise gorgeous morning.
     Phil is hurting this week more than usual, and taking more pain medication to attempt to ease his pain. He has an odd pain occasionally appearing in random spots on his left leg, and up by his lower back. That is one of the symptoms that started this whole process way, way back in 2005.  Which then led to his diagnosis of Multiple Myeloma. And now here we are, 6 years later, and it's is so difficult to suggest even a doctor's appointment.  Don't get me wrong, he has the ultimate respect for all of his doctor's and nurse's, yet doesn't wish to run out and see them anytime soon.  Yet we will go, and we will continue to pray that no "new" spots of Myeloma will be peering out from his loving eyes.
     As I watched him get out of bed this morning from his long sleepless night, induced by steroids, and agitated even more by the onset of his new and additional pain, I see his Myeloma at it's worse.  I stare with with uncertainty, uneasement, and sadness as my heart is pulled from my chest.  I can do nothing more than cringe as the the face of the man I love shows Myeloma written all over it.  His face is etched with discomfort, discouragement, and determination all rolled into one.  His teeth are clenched, and his movement is slow as he is preparing for the simple task of just getting out of bed.  He unwillingly and unknowingly shows slight favor to his left leg by shuffling as much weight as he can tolerate to the right. You see both of his hips hurt, but one is worse than the other.  And although he is trying to favor that left leg, his right foot is soar and tender.  I can see the pain bounce and jump from place to place in each movement.  Now that his hips are engulfed in agony, and the pain in his lower back is screaming like a lead singer from an "80's" rock band, he must now use his shoulders to push himself up into a standing position.  His shoulders are also not in the best of shape, again thanks to the steroids (side effect of steroids is necrotic bone) so as he is using them I can see they are also engulfed in an agony that I can only imagine.  When he has endured more than he can bare, and is almost at a stand, his head is dropped as if to say a prayer, he pauses for a moment to regain his balance and for the pain to subside.  It is at that moment we know that thanks to our faith in God that He is supplying him with all the strength, courage, and love that he will need to get through the day.
     I do occasionally find myself in the midst of worry, and with worry comes the heightened pulse of anxiety.  For me it's a vicious cycle when dealing with cancer and watching the man I love suffer.  If I let it continue then I find myself becoming stressed, overwhelmed, and angry at God.  I often wish to attempt to put control on the situations in our lives, which is yet another thing I am working on, and not the time to go into that complicated mayhem.  Yet I am learning to find the path of letting go of all the disarray of cancer for this is not in my control.  I certainly would wish and still pray that our journey with Myeloma would be easy, and that this disease would just go away already.  Still I am confident that God is teaching us through this process in a diligent and faithful way that He is in control.  We have learned to love and appreciate the good days, the quiet moments, and the love that we have for each other and our faith. 
     We do find our path with this journey sometimes unclear , and we can feel like we are climbing a mountain without any of the proper gear.  Just hanging on by the edge of life, all alone with obstacles to overcome daily.  That's when God steps in and provides us with that gear, with an abundance of  grace, courage, strength, and love provided in an instant.  All of us have our own trials and struggles in life, however, I hope when you feel like you can't go on and nothing seems to matter, you take a moment to pause, bow your head, take a deep breathe in and let go of all that uncertainty.  Focus on your faith and prayer.  God will then direct your path and you will find peace, strength, and courage to get through anything.  I am praying for you Phil each and every day.  I love you.