October 12.

So we had the PET scan on October 1.

We got the results on October 10.

Matt was sent to the ER after that appointment. He needed an ambulance to take him to the hospital.

Apparently, he was in a great deal of pain, and I hadn't realized it. All he asked for was Tylenol and MC contin.  He still hasn't eaten much.

So what kind of hell was I overseeing for the past few weeks?!?  Does he actually want to die?
I did not come all this way to have him give up on me.

I hope against hope that he really was just so sick it didn't occur to him to think that this was a bad idea.

But on to the results of the PET scan.

The doctor was shocked when he read the results. Keeping in mind that Dr K is a fairly laid back person, as well as representative of the institutional hardiness that's a trademark in that field of medicine.

This thing started in a lymph node or two in the groin, plus the mass on his ass.
Now it's in his lungs, and pretty much every lymph node.  The mass is growing back on his posterior. We are full on stage 4 in the six weeks since radiation and chemo.  Turns out, this is some freakish super rare cancer they didn't even bother looking for. Squamous Cell carcinoma should be dead, dead dead.

                Unholy angels of despair, Batman.

But I'm not giving up yet. This shit has taken too many people I love and I will be here fighting to the last.
I'm too pissed off to consider giving up.

But that doesn't mean I'm not going to be a crazy mess for a while.

And if that weren't enough, the man has an infection of the unknown variety. Yes there's a bladder infection, and some fungal action, but nothing that explains such a high white count. If they don't get this taken care of RIGHT FREEKING NOW, he could die in a matter of days or weeks on the outside.

Dammit, I'm a pessimist by nature. I have had dreams of his death in a number of ways. Before this cancer reared it's ugly mug, I had had a dreams for a solid month telling me how he'd bleed to death in the bed we bought as a wedding gift for ourselves.

I was bathed in his cold sticky blood, and I'd slept right through everything. His body was a skin and bones parody of a model at Madame Truseauds. I remember what it was like holding the waxen rigored corpse and sobbing. Textures and smells were so real in that dream.

But if I can help it I won't let it happen.

 All sorts of wonderful people are  praying for us and offering concrete genuine helps in this time of stress. Apocryphals, you know who you are.  Keep flyin' and keep praying.

I can't thank people enough, without them-- especially Mel who kept badgering me to get help-- God bless you and keep you.  You are a badger with wings and a halo.

To those crazy kids in St Louis who gave me a contingency plan that takes a load off my mind... and plenty of ideas, fun fiction  and practical tips that are life savers.

To the Endocrine specialist who has given me priceless information and counseling when I needed it most...

To Sarah who is like the clan matriarch of this crazy online family I love so much...

To that other doctor in the small rural hospital who is taking time out of her busy schedule to give me supplemental information so I can digest all this...

God bless you all.

And whatever atheists appreciate, insert that, too. I'm too messed up to think about it.