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I’ve been sitting on this knowledge for about a week now. My dad had an appointment with his oncologist last week for a check-up – on my parents’ 37th anniversary – and the doctor told him that he has indolent lymphoma in his intestine. I think my mom said it’s near his right leg, but I could have that mixed up.
The oncologist said it’s not something to worry about right now. They’re just going to watch and wait. “Aggressively watch” is the term he used, which means my dad will have more frequent testing than he would have had before. Every few months, he will be alternating PET scans with CAT scans. A colonoscopy is not necessary at this point, which made him pretty happy.
My mom was blindsided with the news. We thought my dad was in full remission. Now we found out that he has some cancer still inside him, quietly lurking in his intestine. It’s not doing anything right now. Indolent means slow-growing. It could be years before it decides to grow and spread. But the doctors will be watching for it now, which means that it won’t be too advanced when the changes are detected. Hell, he was in Stage IV with his Mantle Cell Lymphoma (MCL) and he got that aggressive form of the cancer knocked out of his system.
His oncologist said he wouldn’t recommend chemotherapy yet at this point anyways, but from the very limited research I’ve done on the topic, rituximab is the preferred method of treatment for indolent lymphoma. That’s the most expensive drug he was on for his initial chemo cocktail at $11,000 per dose. (Yay insurance!)
But I’m not going to let myself read too much about it, because all it will do is increase my anxiety. There is literally nothing we can do about the cancer right now except watch and wait, so I’m trying to be uncharacteristically patient. I destroyed myself with anxiety as my dad battled his Mantle Cell Lymphoma. I won’t let myself run at that fever pitch of neurosis for years while we wait for the cancer to decide what it’s going to do to his body.
So once again, I ask for your thoughts and your prayers. We’re in it for the long haul this time. At least I know that my dad is retiring at the end of November, so he will be able to enjoy life a bit more instead of worrying about work and cancer at the same time.
That’s me: Christina Gleason. I’m a writer, editor, and disability advocate. I'm a multiply disabled autistic lady doing my best in this world built for abled people. I’m a geek for grammar, fantasy, and casual gaming. I hate vegetables. I cannot reliably speak, so I’ll happily conduct business over email or messaging instead.
I’m sorry to hear this. It’s hard having something like this lingering in the background, but like you said, best not to dwell (or Google) too much. Thank goodness he has access to the medical care he needs. It sounds like he’s in good hands and has a loving family to lean on when he needs it. Sending my good thoughts.
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Thanks, Kim. We’re so grateful for access to a team of amazing doctors, an insurance plan that will cover most of the cost, and that most of the family lives right here in the area. My dad has to retire by the end of the year in order to keep his current insurance plan under the new GE contract, so this is the reminder he needed to stop working and take care of himself. He’s worried about money, but the medical costs of the new insurance plan alone wouldn’t be worth the salary.
Ooft. I’m sorry about the bad news.
But just think of it this way, when he beats this cancer, just as he did with the MCL, he’ll be able to run around beating on his chest declaring “I am all that is man!” as your mom swoons over his masculine resilience. ;D
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