This past week, at my oncology appointment, my oncologist explained that the first-line treatment had seemingly failed and my cancer had progressed. Clearly, this is not a good thing. After chemotherapy, one would expect either no progression or shrinkage.
As we were working through this with the oncologist, my wife, Sara, asked a question:
How long does he have?
This question had been in her mind for some time. But, she’d been putting it off until our two-month check-in.
The oncologist, pretty quickly, responded with 6 months, maybe much less. We then saw another oncologist the next day, and he agreed with that guess and even added that if the new treatment worked, that we’d be gaining months, not years.
While the news isn’t great, not much changes for me personally. We’ll still show up and do the work as I’ve previously talked about, on the chance that we can prove the oncologists wrong. Outside of that, I’ll prioritize spending time with the kids, trying to handle as much as possible to make things as easy as possible for Sara after I die, and enjoying the days that I have left.
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