May 15, 2008 6:21pm
So I woke up today and my dog had pissed on me.
No kidding.
6:30 am and Loggie woke me up to tell me that she thought her feeding tube came undone and was leaking. She pointed out that we were both wet.
Turns out instead it wasn’t stomach acid or last nights dinner, instead our dog Jersey had urinated on us.

I am sure you can imagine how impressed I was.
The dog knew right away that she would be banished to sleeping in the garage and ran to hide from my wrath.
My day began with the washing of all our linens, and clothing and bodies.

I couldn’t believe it, but I knew it was a sign. This was going to be a shitty day.
I took a big deep breath and sarcastically thanked god in advance for the warning.

We had appointments at the hospital today. Loggie had a dexa scan to see the extent of her bone deterioration and then we met with our oncologist to talk about Loggies condition.

Dr. Hukin was also a bit alarmed with the continuation of the “leg and I can’t see episodes”. She is concerned and wants to try to give Loggie a mega dose of Dex (the steriod we don’t like) to see if it will be enough to cause the swelling to come down in the brain and the episodes to stop. She hasn’t had one of her “episodes” in the last couple of days though and when I explained to Dr. Hukin the irregularity of these episodes she too seemed confused.

“They are happening more often,” I told her, ” but not everyday, having said that when she does get one it is almost certain that she will get 3 or 4 more to follow that day”

She consulted with another doctor and they agreed that it would be a good idea to rule out the possibility that she could be beginning to get seizures. An EEG is being booked for the next week or so.

The obvious question came up about whether or not she believed this was a result of tumor progression. Of course she couldn’t answer it.

I hate the dance around questions. Sometimes I feel like our oncologist is more like a politician than a doctor, so I asked her straight out if she had catagorized Logan as being palliative.

Again she danced. She didn’t want to answer the dreaded question.

I told her about my session with Dr. Kuttner, I told her I knew they spoke and explained that I had been struggling with emotion ever since that day.

She explained to me that yes, we have exhausted all of the regular treatments. She told me that she recently discussed Logan’s upcoming chemo with the oncology department at Toronto Sick Kids. She wanted a second opinion. They came back and told her that at this point they would not offer Logan cisplatin. The feeling being that she relapsed on chemotherapy twice and since the tumor continues to grow and seed other areas of the brain. Basically it is pointless subjecting her to the poison when really there is little hope.

Dr. Hukin shared this with me. I know it wasn’t easy for her but she shared that she was willing to offer the treatment despite her colleagues opinions simply because there are so few cases like Logan’s. There is very little information to go on or compare to. So basically a shot in the dark.

She explained the risks again, reinforced that it is an aggressive treatment and then finished off with telling me that she also believes that maybe it is time to try this chemo as we have talked about it for so long. She read the study, she thinks it is promising. She said that we wouldn’t give up hope.

You could tell we both felt a bit unsettled by our decision but mostly about the uncertainty. Logan was not in the room while we talked so I began to cry.

Pretty soon I couldn’t stop. Although I have know we were at the end of our treatment options I have never FELT like we were. It was a bit of an awakening.

Dr. Hukin explained how there were other trials and combinations of chemo that we could try if this combination of radiation/chemo failed but also explained her position on
‘at that point, what would we really be doing’- you get the point.

Logan came into the room, obviously she could feel the tension and could see I was crying.

“What is going on?” she asked me. “Did they find a new tumor on my spine in the dexa scan?”

“No” I replied “They didn’t find any new tumors, mom is just crying about the ones you already have”

She looked at me kind of strangely. “Haven’t you already cried enough about those ones? ”

I smiled, she was right.

I explained to her how this was going to be a tough chemo and how she couldn’t have much more chemo than she’s already had, and that I was worried about her.

“Don’t worry,” she assured me, “It won’t matter Mom because after this chemo I won’t need anymore, my tumors will be gone”

Dr. Hukin reiterated that we were not losing hope. We could not fall apart and now more than ever it was time to stay strong. I apologized for always crying with her, she explained to me that it was what she got paid to do…make parents cry….the sucky part of the job she told me.

Anyways we left with a plan, or somewhat of one…we do the best we can with what we have for as long as we can. We will know when it is time to make other decisions or move forward with the palliative team. She assured me Canuck Place was going to be there if we needed it. If we weren’t ready, then neither was she. I have such a love/hate relationship with this woman.

I left the office with some of the good Kleenex from the nurses offices, and got in my car. The sun was shining brightly and everyone enjoying the beautiful day and all I could think about was

My DOG PISSED ON ME!!!!
I knew this day was going to be a crappy one and it was. There is no way to prepare for a day like today, you just have to take deep breathes, say the word fuck a whole lot of times with your inside voice, stop at the liquor store for a good bottle of red and head home to wash your linens one more time…

Tonight will be clean sheet night. Tomorrow is another day. Summer has finally arrived.

It is not all bad.

I will keep you posted