Grace for this...

We are 10 weeks past that day. The day that we were told that options had been exhausted and we were walking on a time limit.
I spoke to someone last week who was aghast that we had been given an end date. They likened it to the act of the witch doctor pointing the stick. Does it actually, physically mean that death approaches or does it just mess with your mind??
I don't know.
Some days I'm glad we know.
Other days I want to forget.

We have had a marvellous 10 weeks.
We have crammed so many living moments, so many memories and laughs into the 10 weeks. Trust me- there was no big sigh and a shrug of the shoulders in defeat.
No... that's not his way.

Well.. today we are faced with a new layer of experience.
Sheldon has been virtually pain free throughout the years he has carried this scourge of GIST.
Even last September,  when the very large tumor was removed from his abdomen he experienced minimal pain. A few twinges and aches but he managed to cope really well.

So it's been a bit of a steep climb to come to terms with the consistent pain that has plagued him through these past days.
It's meant sleepless nights as he tries to get comfortable.
It's changed eating habits because he just doesn't want to add any pressure to an already painful abdomen.
We know, in the back of our minds, that we have a palliative care team at St. Catherine's as an option... as a fall back when the take-at- home drugs just arn't enough.
But- let me be really honest - it's an option we both don't want to access just yet. Because it's hospital. No... we can do hospital. This is different. Hospital means fighting. This is palliative care.
And it's scary.
And it feels like defeat.

I've read enough blogs and stories about end stage cancer care to know (cognitively) that all of these reasons are poorly founded.  I know that it will be a relief to have better management and support.
But knowing  something at a cognitive level and translating that to emotion and action sometimes takes time.
So we take some time to process this.
We visited our doctor yesterday and he completely understood our reservation towards this next step. And he calmly gave us scripts for longer lasting pain killers. And he painted a scenario where we might find ourselves at St.Catherine's. And it didn't sound remotely scary or upsetting.
I guess that's because there is grace for what comes next.
Just like we have seen and walked in grace these past days and weeks.
And last night, armed with the new regime of painkillers, he slept well. He feels ok. Which means we are coping today.
And hopefully that will be the story tomorrow.. and for the tomorrow after that.
And at the moment in one of our tomorrows when we need to stop the pain with stronger drugs... well... There is grace written all over that day.