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May 05-11

This Week

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Grant:
I saw you came by & got your things out of my place. But why did you leave those two deflated balloons behind on the floor of my closet? You know, I don’t want to be left with any reminders of you, right?? And you’re telling me you’re not gonna like … text me… or call me in the middle of the night …. and tell me you still love me & want me back? Are you? Because I’m done. 100%. Never again. I never want anything to do with you again. I hope you’re me hearing me clearly!!?? Because if it were up to me, we’d never get back together. 


Cancer
I mean… yeah. Sure thing, Lovebug. 
*Shoulder shrug* I’m done too. I mean, I think. I can’t make you any promises. We’ll just have to wait & see, I guess. Won’t we? (As aloof and heartless and uncaring as Cancer has ever been). 

And that’s how things are ending. Strangely… Casual. Unceremonious. Somewhat uncertain. Grasping onto blind faith & hope that this asshole will never return to torment your life again, even though you were never taken into consideration by Cancer before this. Why would you be again? Especially when you’re so easy to love. 

I finally spoke to Grant’s primary oncologist yesterday about his CT results. I did interpret his scans from Monday correctly: nothing has really changed since December. No new lesions are showing up nor has there been growth of former masses, which is what was expected. And is a very good thing!! Although the two big masses, the one in his neck and his chest, are still there. And measuring the slightest bit smaller. The oncologist reassured us that we know they’re not active because the PET scan from December told us they’re not. I guess over time it’s possible they might get reabsorbed by the body or remain there, similar to scar tissue. 

And the best way I can understand that is to picture two normal lymph nodes as balloons. Not blown up yet. Sitting in the bins at Party City. But then Cancer is the customer & says he’s having a party at Grant’s place & wants these two balloons inflated & starts growing. The lymph nodes now become big ol tumors. Then chemo comes in and kills cancer cells and shrinks the tumors like some kind of clown sucking helium out of the balloons & now talking in a voice you would never fully trust. And once all the cancer is gone, and all the helium has been sucked out, you’re left with two deflated balloons lying on the floor, now rendered useless as opposed to their starting state. 

I’m no doctor nor am I a nurse, so I have no idea if this visual is accurate, but it’s the best way I can make sense of what Grant has been left with. And explains our somewhat lackluster reaction to his scan results. Hence, the unceremonious breakup analogy. Because that analogy is *exactly* what it feels like. You wanna go out & celebrate with your friends because this asshole is out of your life but you feel trepidation in doing so because you have a hard time truly believing Cancer is done with you too. 

Switching gears now, Grant also had an echocardiogram on Monday. Pediatric cardiologist called that afternoon to tell us he wants to see him back in two months. Some measurements seemed to indicate decreased heart function but nothing that needs to be addressed immediately. Not terrible news. Not awesome news either. Hopefully the “off measurement” is something that will resolve itself in time or maybe, best case, was just an error? 

We are still (rather impatiently) waiting to hear about a date for his port to be removed and if/when he’ll ring the bell. 

And I’m gonna be really honest with you & hope you’ll understand, but I do not envision Grant caring much about ringing the bell at this point. Going back to the unceremonious break-up analogy for the last time: In Grant’s mind, he is obviously, redundantly, ready to move on. I can not imagine him being receptive to a mutual friend tapping him on the shoulder saying: 
Hey! I know you were supposed to attend this event by yourself after y’all broke up, but I think you should know that Cancer is here in this building hiding. Being the bold, cruel coward that Cancer is. And I know you know Cancer wasn’t in a relationship with just you either. And even though you probably won’t bump into Cancer again yourself, I know being here reminds you of Cancer. You can smell Cancer’s scent when you’re here & being here brings up memories you’re trying to forget. I get it. Buuuuuut …. everyone still wants to celebrate your break-up. Because Cancer is THAT BIG of an asshole!! 

You can see how Grant might be tough to persuade? 

So folks, here we are. Just picking up & moving on. No big ceremony necessary. Because our time with Cancer has been a cake walk in comparison to so many other’s. Our relationship with Cancer was intense but luckily, fairly short-lived and we feel especially fortunate to have emerged from things fairly unscathed it seems. Which is MORE THAN ENOUGH reason to celebrate. We’ll just let Grant decide how he feels most comfortable celebrating. Because that IS something he has a choice in. 
💙💚💛💙 

So …. I guess it’s pretty safe to say these updates are winding down. I won’t leave you on this note though. I promise to check in one last time with a life update when the time comes. We do very much have lots to look forward to. 

Thank you from the bottom of hearts for being here and loving us and supporting us and helping us “Fight For Grant” all these months!! This fight would have been so much more challenging without each & every one of you!! 

With sincerest appreciation, 
Abe, Melanie, Drew & Grant 
💙💚💛💙


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