Yesterday afternoon, my husband had his biliary stent removed, and a newer, longer stent with greater diameter inserted. This affords greater drainage of bile from the liver and gall bladder into the duodenum. Bile aids in digestion of foods.
The difference between this stenting and last week’s stenting is the difference between night and day. He was awake and alert within an hour of the procedure, and remains alert, growing stronger daily.
Seeing this, I could relax my vigilance somewhat, though my mind turned toward his cancer and the chemo and radiation necessary to shrink his tumor. I spoke with his oncologist, and found out that my husband would stay in hospital through the weekend to be sure he is stable. I knew he had had a CT-scan while in ICU, and asked the oncologist if the mass had grown. Luckily, it has not. Another reason to be hopeful, though not to lose focus.
I also asked what kind of pancreatic cancer he has. Turns out it’s adenocarcinoma, the most common type, though his isn’t in a duct, but in the head of the pancreas. It’s also the same kind of cancer he had in his stomach 17 years ago.
Buoyed by his improvement, the doctor’s input, and some newfound knowledge, I am more determined than ever that we’ll be successful.
As I write this, I find my curiosity piqued. How did I handle my female protagonist’s determination in With Malice toward One. What other comparisons can I make with her?
But I’ll leave that for my next post. For now, I’m going to toast this tiny bit of success with a cuppa and a cookie.