Last week there were moments when the ground seemed to be slipping away and when I thought someone was going to slap me and say Janet, stop being such a drama queen, this is not your real life but I have checked with others and it is indeed my real life. I knew it was bad when two doctors, one of them quite senior, and a care coordinator arrived at Gerard's bedside and ushered us into a room last Friday. A quiet room with tissues. Actually I knew it was bad when I got a Facebook message on my phone Thursday before last to say that Gerard was behaving strangely at the supermarket, and when we arrived home and found him unconscious on the kitchen floor, when the MICA paramedic arrived within 10 minutes, when the three of us were in an ambulance speeding up Bell street and the ambo kept asking him questions and checking this and that, when they had a room ready for him at hospital, when he was scanned within 30 minutes and in a special ward within two hours. When the brain surgeon talked to us about the biopsy. Yet never have I been so grateful to live in a country with a well resourced medical system staffed by compassionate people who know what they are doing. Not once did anyone ask us if we could pay, the paper work was minimal, we were well looked after. Later there were some not so flash moments, but never when it really mattered.
So back to the room with the tissues. Gerard has two brain tumours, two different cancers. Each with their own doctor and medical team. One needs to be treated as soon as his biopsy has healed and the other needs to be closely monitored and will be treated later. The doctors are saying that given his age and health, it is well worth pursuing nine months of radiation therapy and chemo which Gerard will receive as an outpatient. He came home from hospital today and is pretty much himself despite some cognitive and memory issues. There was going to be a stint in the rehab hospital but it was decided that he would do better having the rehab at home. I was a bit stunned by the lack of notice, but hey he doesn't care that the house is dusty. It is home and not hospital. We are all together again.
I am coping on the outside but shattered on the inside. We are lucky to be surrounded by friends and family and are well supported. So slowly doing what needs to be done. There is a big list and we are being assessed for services starting on Monday. Grace has been told but I don't think it has quite sunk in yet. She is hanging onto her life. I'm OK with that.