A new beginning

Initial hospice consultation was a day early...scheduling snafu. All good. It feels like a weight has been lifted from our shoulders.

Hospice provides everything from pain relief, to 24/7 in-home care, to counseling for family members long after the storm has passed. Patients can be in hospice care for a year or longer...please don't freak out at the word "hospice." It doesn't mean Peg's passing is soon. It's just that there's a small army of folks who have our back when the time comes.

Peg's last invasive medical procedure will be on Tuesday morning, and it's a helpful one. They'll insert a tube from her belly with a valve so she can relieve weekly fluid buildup herself, here at home, instead of letting it balloon so she's miserable, then draining it so she's dealing with fluid imbalances that adversely affect her appetite.

No more chemo. No more blood tests. No more trips to doctors or the infusion center. No more hours spent in waiting rooms. No more hospital stays. No more enduring yet another procedure that doesn't ensure a longer life, but does ensure fatigue, discomfort, loss of appetite and turning Peg's life into the equivalent of "medical detention."

It's kind of hard to be giddy around cancer, but we were just shy of doing the yippy-skippy dance today. Our wonderful internist, Dr. Patella, is fully supportive. He told us today it's been his experience that patients in hospice care live longer than those who have slogged through further chemotherapy. It's such a relief to let go of the medical mishegoss and just focus on Peg being comfortable, and present, and happy, for as long as it lasts.

She's gotten her "Get out of jail free" card, and it's a welcome change when she's been so tired and disheartened. This is a new freedom for Peg, one she hasn't had since June, 2009. This is her show now...she's calling the shots. We're not under any illusion that she'll survive this...and dropping that illusion is a blessing we never imagined.

Life 3.0. Bring it.