another terrifying u-turn

I woke up this morning with a list of things to do to make my life in Seattle stable.

While the laundry spun, I called a friend in SF and walked him through my apartment by phone as he collected affairs to over-night to me (when did over-night become a verb?).

Before heading out I did my usual chat with the folks here in the house -- the American Indian woman who's 23 year old son doesn't want to get treated for his leukemia, the 52 year old man with small-cell lung cancer who can't seem to get through the heart-wrenching feeling it's his fault, the mother-daughter-son trio who have been here for five months while a sibling has been in hospital fighting a very rare form of cancer. To be honest I mostly just listen...

When I called Tad to tell him I was on my way he informed me the oncologist had done his rounds and announced in front of the flock of interns that their hospital can't help us. Our only option is to go home. My head and heart spun like a tornado.

I hung up and immediately started making calls to the other oncologist, the one who had promised us a solution. Amazingly his team called me back.

I discovered in fact the truth lies somewhere in the middle: Tad does not meet the full criteria of any of the experimental drug trials - contrary to what had been promised to us before we even got here. However one of the protocols combines four drugs that are all openly available - it's the combination that is being studied.

This is in fact the combination the doc thought to be the most promising.

Thus we ended the evening with the same oncologist coming to the room (without his devotees) to explain to us the one option available. He described the many side effects possible and the protocol. He expressed his doubts that it will work but he is willing to try if this is what Tad wants.

This is what Tad wants.

He also gave us permission to go home and take a short break before we start the chemo. He warned that Tad basically has no immune system left (but it he says it's no worse than it was during the last three months when he was living at home).

So it seems we will be in Seattle for a while: Tad in the oncology unit and me nearby supporting him. It's cold and grey but the people are spontaneously warmer than San Francsicans (sorry fellow San Franciscans) and the medical staff are less complicated, more forthcoming.