Yesterday went downhill fast, or so it seemed. Tuesday’s the day to meet with the radiologist/oncologist so he can see how I’m doing. Once again, he was less than pleased. He felt that the “big thing”, which is a tumor-like mass of tissue on what was once my waist hadn’t shrunk. At about the halfway mark, that wasn’t good. Now it had shrunk in diameter, but I could see it didn’t look like something that was halfway gone. He said maybe they’d have to add more sessions of radiation and I should talk to the dermatologist about other treatments for it. A few extra radiation sessions certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I was just generally bummed about the whole idea that maybe the radiation wasn’t working. In addition to that, two new spots popped up over the weekend, just outside the area of radiation. I hit them with cortisone cream as soon at they appeared and they’ve retreated considerably but it’s another thing to take up with the dermatologist. Good thing I’m seeing him tomorrow.

After treatment it was bloodwork day, so I went off and got that done, and then sort of limped home. To find the basement under water. We’d just been deciding whether to save up a bit and replace our thirty-something year old septic system or just to have it cleaned out thoroughly. The cleaning would cost at least a quarter of what replacement would cost, so it wasn’t a no brainer, even though we didn’t have the money to replace everything at hand. Until yesterday. After some phone consultations with other family members, we arranged for cleaning. No time for saving, or to have someone start a replacement job.

At dinner, my mother looked up and, appropos of nothing, asked, “Have I been going to work?” and then, “I’m confused. Do I still work?” Not in years and years. That’s one of those uh-oh moments. It’s qualitatively different from asking me a few times daily if I’m going to work today, and having me explain, each time, that I’m home for several weeks. Those are the short term memory issues. Remembering her own retirement is another kettle of braincells altogether.

Later on I noticed that the “big thing” that the doctor was unhappy with had changed color. It was distinctly darker and redder than earlier in the day. That doesn’t sound so good, but it seemed to mean it had ratcheted up its response to radiation, so I was not unhappy to see it. This morning, I got up and it had shrunk by a visible percentage overnight, as if in response to the doctor’s disapproval.

Now it’s time to see what today might hold.