Liylah is a fruitcake
Gilly is still managing the treatments well in that he is not nauseous. Spending the whole day with him revealed some truths he’s been harbouring. He admitted to me around mid-morning that he cannot really see. His right side is not responsive, to the point that he feels he cannot walk properly. He drags his leg and this makes it very difficult to move around. He asked to see Dr. Wise again to address his deteriorating vision.
I was skeptical. I remembered that swelling is a result of radiation. They warned us of this, and so I wondered what an eye doctor could do? A new prescription would surely be ridiculous at this point, but I agreed to make the call. I spoke candidly to the receptionist, expecting her to consult with Dr. Wise, quite confident he would say to wait until the treatments are done and then he could reassess. She simply asked, “How’s 3:00?” I felt I owed him the respect of allowing him to pursue all possible solutions.
Dr. Wise examined Gilly and determined that there is swelling in the occipital lobe of his brain, the area responsible for perception. This is one of the 4 targets for radiation, and so the swelling is to be expected. Nothing can be done except prescribe steroids. He’s already on Decadron, so, as uncomfortable as it is, the waiting is game is the only other alternative. We were told by the resident at the Neuro that the swelling ought to reverse itself a couple of months down the road. I told Dr Wise that I had mentioned to his receptionist the fact that Gilly had started radiation, expecting that we would be advised not to bother coming in. Dr. Wise says he deserves an answer to his query, so it’s good that we came in. At least he now knows why he cannot process visual information, and that his acuity is fine. He predicted that the condition may only be temporary. Gilly was less than enthused with the result of his visit.
Tonight, Gilly is resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to wait it out. He believes that the treatment must be continued, and that this is one of the discomforts he will have to bear. “What can I do?” he asked rhetorically. “You can fight like hell!” I replied. "I am," he answered. "I know you are," I repiled.
I overheard him thank Yaron (a few moments ago) for walking the dog as often as he does. He shared that it is just too difficult for him to manage, and so he appreciates that Yaron has stepped up to the plate for him. It takes an awful lot for Gilly to admit a weakness to anyone, but especially to his son; someone he feels naturally disposed to protect. What a tender moment.
On a sweet note, our Liylah continues to amuse us with her peculiar exploits. Tamara came by for a visit this afternoon. She sat down in my favourite spot on the sofa, next to Liylah’s bed to chat with Max on the phone. She glanced at the dog, and was shocked to discover that she had taken a mango to bed with her, in lieu of her baby coconut. What sort of fruitcake have we adopted? Again, she did not bite into it. This time she was licking the fruit as if cleaning her puppy. What’s next?
I was skeptical. I remembered that swelling is a result of radiation. They warned us of this, and so I wondered what an eye doctor could do? A new prescription would surely be ridiculous at this point, but I agreed to make the call. I spoke candidly to the receptionist, expecting her to consult with Dr. Wise, quite confident he would say to wait until the treatments are done and then he could reassess. She simply asked, “How’s 3:00?” I felt I owed him the respect of allowing him to pursue all possible solutions.
Dr. Wise examined Gilly and determined that there is swelling in the occipital lobe of his brain, the area responsible for perception. This is one of the 4 targets for radiation, and so the swelling is to be expected. Nothing can be done except prescribe steroids. He’s already on Decadron, so, as uncomfortable as it is, the waiting is game is the only other alternative. We were told by the resident at the Neuro that the swelling ought to reverse itself a couple of months down the road. I told Dr Wise that I had mentioned to his receptionist the fact that Gilly had started radiation, expecting that we would be advised not to bother coming in. Dr. Wise says he deserves an answer to his query, so it’s good that we came in. At least he now knows why he cannot process visual information, and that his acuity is fine. He predicted that the condition may only be temporary. Gilly was less than enthused with the result of his visit.
Tonight, Gilly is resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to wait it out. He believes that the treatment must be continued, and that this is one of the discomforts he will have to bear. “What can I do?” he asked rhetorically. “You can fight like hell!” I replied. "I am," he answered. "I know you are," I repiled.
I overheard him thank Yaron (a few moments ago) for walking the dog as often as he does. He shared that it is just too difficult for him to manage, and so he appreciates that Yaron has stepped up to the plate for him. It takes an awful lot for Gilly to admit a weakness to anyone, but especially to his son; someone he feels naturally disposed to protect. What a tender moment.
On a sweet note, our Liylah continues to amuse us with her peculiar exploits. Tamara came by for a visit this afternoon. She sat down in my favourite spot on the sofa, next to Liylah’s bed to chat with Max on the phone. She glanced at the dog, and was shocked to discover that she had taken a mango to bed with her, in lieu of her baby coconut. What sort of fruitcake have we adopted? Again, she did not bite into it. This time she was licking the fruit as if cleaning her puppy. What’s next?
posted by Gilly at 8:02 PM
1 Comments:
Good Shabbos to all.
Post a Comment
<< Home