Nashville or Bust

Boy Cleans Up Good

It’s been one heck of a week.

Last Monday, Dave was recognized on campus with quite an honor. Along with colleague Bob Eveslage, Dave received the House/Bruckmann Award at Cincinnati State for faculty excellence. Nominated and voted upon by their peers, the annual award recognizes two faculty members who go above and beyond. I was able to sneak out and attend the ceremony and I am so glad that I did. Besides there being cake (mmm…. cake) there was a lot of love, gratitude and pride in that room among everyone there. Dave and I knew it was a special award but we didn’t quite realize the magnitude of the moment until we were in it. And on the brink of waiting for test results, it was a nice respite.  

But there were still a few days between Monday’s celebration and “the appointment.” Without admitting it to each other, we were both trying to get through the week without worry. It was hard. No, strike that, it was messy. My head and heart were twisted worse than a pretzel. Hassles with hospital billing drug me through the muck and reminded me again of all the realities and the possibilities; things I had wanted to forget and things I didn’t want to face. I cried a lot and sometimes I just didn’t know why. I gave up on eye make-up. I wrote some pretty bad poetry that seemed like a good idea at the time. I found solace in leftover cake. It was weird.

Thursday finally came around. As I met up with Dave in the familiar lobby of the oncologist I realized that despite what the scans said, we had each come a long way and we’d continue to go forward. Dave looked good. He was not the same man who sat in the same chair near the coat rack a few months ago. And it was time to find out what step was next.

The CT scan was pretty consistent with the scan taken post chemo and just prior to radiation. The remaining bit of ‘Roger’ didn’t grow and actually got a smidge smaller.The consensus is that this bit of stuff seen on the films is scar tissue. We had been told that because of the original tumor size, there would probably always be a little something in the picture — the wadded up housing of what once held a blobby mass of mutating danger. Things were progressing well. And instead of rushing back in to more follow-up tests in a few weeks, the oncologist felt good about Dave’s response. Nothing to do or see here until Thanksgiving when the guitar part comes around again. It took a bit of courage for Dave to ask when he’d start hearing about remission. The doc quietly looked at his watch then up at Dave and said, “You’re in remission now.” I’m not sure if you are supposed to dance in an examination room but I was about ready to give it a try. It’s not everyday you hear something like that.

We rounded out the week celebrating the end of school for the kids. And for Brandon, the end of an era. If you’re going to have a week of weird emotions, you might as well throw those into the hopper, too, no? Somehow through all of this our band of five also navigated a Senior Year. Graduation is this coming Sunday. We have a lot to celebrate.

Now who wants cake?

~Jacqui

May 31, 2011 - Posted by daveandjacqui | Brandon, Dave, Everyday