Wednesday, October 31, 2007

so it's like this: the gun has 20 chambers. three years ago, 12 of them had bullets in them. spin and fire. A year later, after surgery, chemo, radio, there were eight bullets. spin and fire. now, after two subsequent years of daily pills and monthly shots and day after day simply not getting cancer again, there are still six bullets in that gun. if I make it through another three years, going to bed every night without having got cancer again that day, and if I take my pills and shots all that time, there'll be "only" three bullets left - a 15% chance of recurrence.

but if I stop the medication to get pregnant, possible effects of pregnancy itself aside, I'm effectively voting to leave three bullets in the gun.

this is the considered opinion of my apparently very competent and caring, yet brutally honest oncologist. the numbers are his. the metaphor is mine. I am of course now convinced that the next embryo would have been a little girl.

dh and I have not had a chance to discuss these figures, given in yesterday's review consultation. there seems to me so little to discuss that I rode my bike home, fast in order to catch kindy before it closed, with tears streaming down my face all the way up Wellington Street, and I didn't care who saw.

the only option left is surrogacy. I was so hopeful (and why didn't the oncologist give me these numbers three years ago anyway?) that I haven't investigated that (though I did have my say on the LIV review) ; have only the slimmest of possibilities, even if the law changes; have little expectation that husband will "go for" it; have serious doubts about whether I could do a paid surrogacy. waiting three more years really doesn't make much sense - it would be such a big gap from A, and I would be so old - 45.

veering between a kind of fatalistic acceptance to kick-in-the-guts denial. if past performance is much to go by, husband will not address this until I bring it up. not sure if I can stay with him if he doesn't want this as I want it; not sure I can get past my belief that his neglect helped the cancer go unnotticed for so long, hence those awful figures; not sure of anything, not sure.

Comments: Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]