September -- a vent in progress....

September started out pretty good. The more it's gone on, the worse it's gotten. Every day is a new challenge in courage and bravery.

I have a HUGE family. I have eight siblings and their spouses, more nieces and nephews that I can count. My nieces and nephews have kids of their own. We are also close. I mean close. We lived so far out of town when we were growing up, our siblings were also our best friends. We did everything together. Even in high school, we'd go to the same keggers, wore each others clothes, listened to the same music, rode back and forth to school because the bus didn't go out of town that far, we moved pipe together, we did chores together... you get the idea...

My sisters were here from Boise visiting the family over the Labor Day holiday. I love visiting with my sisters. On the ranch/farm, three siblings have set up homes. You can throw a dead rat from my mom's house and hit any one of their houses. Two-fold benefit... they keep an eye on my mom who is getting up in years and they also work on the farm/ranch. One sister married one of my brother Tom's best friend. We all decided to take a walk and go visit with Tom and his family. Tom has been married to his jr. high school sweetheart for over 30 years. He's 50. They were married about 2 weeks after high school graduation. Well, we walk into Tom's house and he's in his recliner. It hit me like a sledge hammer that he looked horribly gray. Oxygen deprived, blood deprived gray. He's coughing like the true smoker he is. When I asked him if he's seen a doctor, he said yep. They've given him antibiotics for his "bronchitis". Ok... did they do a chest x-ray? Nope. Just give him stronger and stronger antibiotics for his "bronchitis" that doesn't seem to clear up. This was Saturday. By Labor Day Monday, the pain is so bad in his ribcage he's thought he broke a rib coughing so hard. They go to the ER because his wife is insisting by now. The pain and cough is so bad, he has trouble catching his breath.

If you're still reading this diatribe, you've probably already guessed that they diagnosed him with lung cancer. Our happy close family is once again, threatened by the beast. This is the fifth time the beast has reared it's ugly head in my family. His cancer has already wrapped itself around his spine and ribs creating his horrible pain. Devastating. Two of my brothers feel it's best if I break this news to my mother. I opt out. I refuse. I had to tell her about my own. She had to hear about my nephews leukemia, and she fought along side my dad when he went through colon cancer. Cancer is an unwelcome foe in our family as well as yours. We hate it. All of us.

Treatment begins. One of Toms very good friends is a physician. In fact, this is the doc that did his colonoscopy. He's recommended an onc who is one of his colleagues. Well, this family has seen enough cancer that we're pretty picky about our oncs. I've not heard one good thing about this onc. I had two friends that went to this onc and they fired him. My brother wants to talk to the one his MD friend recommended. I'm like Switzerland -- I'm remaining neutral in this. It's his cancer and his choices. I just want him to be comfortable with the choices he's made. Secretly, I want him to see my onc. I want him to see the onc that's saved the life of my nephew, and me. The oncologist recommended to him by his MD friend is an ****. His bedside manner is horrible and he's given him no hope for survival. He's told him a few months is all he has left.

My secret wish for him to see my onc is slowly becoming more than a wish but a thought that nags at me all day, every day, because his onc has already ended his hope and life and he doesn't see any use in trying, yet I still say nothing. I want to respect his wishes. I cry in secret, not letting anyone see because this oncologist has given up hope on one of my best friends -- my brother. I pray and wish and want him to fight. He's more like my dad than I originally thought. My dad wasn't a fighter, either. My brother certainly isn't. My brother is as big as a grizzly bear, but a pacifist. He doesn't like confrontation, never has. I've seen this six foot 240 lb guy walk away from more fights because he hates fights.

I did remind my brother that it's OK to seek out a second opinion. Any physician who gets mad because you've sought a second opinion isn't worth a dang anyway. I guess he must have thought about it. His biggest objection to seeking out my onc is that he lives 25 miles away from him. This is actually quite trivial to those of us who don't care how far you have to travel. If there's a chance, you take it, right? Well, my nephews dad (one of our other brothers) encouraged him to see our onc. One thing I've always admired about my onc is that he doesn't throw out numbers. He doesn't tell you that you have three weeks or four months to live. He says we're gonna do our darnedest to kick this thing. He gives hope. He doesn't sugar coat things, but still, he gives hope. There are miracles that happen everyday and why can't his patients have them? True. Why can't they?

Tom calls another brother of ours. Wants him to call me and ask if we can both go to his appt with my onc. He's made an appt. My heart lifts. He's finally ready to seek treatment elsewhere. I've prayed like no woman has prayed before for this day. My wish is coming true. Now, my oncologist has the same sounding surname as my maiden name, just spelled differently. Mine is Dixon. His is Dickson. When I first went to my onc, we laughed. He said we're "family" and the only reason his name isn't spelled like ours is because 300 hundred years ago, his horse thieving relatives weren't that smart. We laugh! I had an appt at my oncs office yesterday for CEA and labs. My brothers appt was an hour later. They met me there, we left, got a sandwich and went back. Dr. Dickson walked in. Said us "Dixons" have to quit meeting this way.

Tom liked him immediately. Dr. Dickson explained to Tom why his cancer is inoperable. Something no other doctor (onc or radiologist) has explained to him or what laid ahead of him with treatment. Explained where the tumor was and could explain exactly why he was hurting so bad and why the radiation treatments he's had so far haven't let the pain up. This was all news to Tom as his other doc never even talked to him about treatments and what he could expect or why he was unoperable but just told him it was impossible. Tom's wife sighed and told Dr. Dickson, "Thank you -- nobody has ever explained why he wasn't operable or why his pain is still so severe." Tom looked at Dr. Dickson and exclaimed, "I'm going with you! Dr. S is an **** and his bedside manner sucks!" He didn't throw out numbers and he explained he's treated this same kind of cancer and he's had success of getting some them to remission. In others he says, the tumors might still be there, but they're stable. We all know stable is good. Stable means no new growth. He also explained to him that the chemo regimen Dr. S wanted to put him on wasn't what he would prescribe and why. Most of us know that Avastin can cause bleeding... Well, Toms tumor is very close to a big blood vessel. If that tumor breaks up, it could rip that vessel and cause hemorrhage and death. Why would Dr. S suggest Avastin? Tom didn't even know where his tumors were located until Dr. Dickson explained this all to him.

Tom finally has hope. I could see a whole attitude change when we left.

I didn't post this so the naysayers could turn it around and say he can still lose his life. I'm not stupid and this ain't my first rodeo. I know he can -- but I also know that he's also in the best hands, and if he does die because of this cancer, I'll know they tried everything they could and that Tom was comfortable with his choices. My hope is that I'll have one of my best friends around for a long time.

Now, if I can just keep my mother out of the hospital... But that's another story.