Dad saw his primary doctor late in the day. He told Dad they are proceeding with the transplant and he will get to go home at the end of the week. Next week, Dad will have to go in everyday for a treatment with a trial drug that is going to try and suppress the progression of the leukemia while we await transplant.
The doctor told my Mom that he wouldn't recommend this drastic of a procedure if he didn't think there was a chance of it working. He said if he thought they were out of options, he would tell them that straight up. The procedure itself will be grueling for Dad. They are going to attempt the two days of chemo and one of radiation when the time comes. The chemo isn't working anymore on it's own, so that's why they are going to hit it hard with radiation too.
Dad asked if he didn't have the procedure, what would happen. The doctor told him he'd have 3 to 6 months. Dad, of course, said, well, let's do it then since I'm out of options otherwise.
So, that's how the day ends. A lot we could be dwelling on and thinking about, but not much that you really want to. I am hoping the light of day will bring a better perspective for all of us.
2 comments:
Don't give up hope, Adrienne! When my father was first diagnosed with brain cancer, the doctors gave him 6-24 months to live. That was in 1997, and he is still with us. If you need to anything (even someone to talk to) please don't hesitate to ask.
Thanks Angie. We are still full of hope. It was just a hard day yesterday, especially for my Dad. Thanks for checking in! How are you doing since your Mom passed?
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