Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Tuesday, September 13 Part II


I lost twenty bucks today.

I took Tim down for an MRI in Cour D’Alene, and after the MRI, they made us go over to the emergency room because the radiologist was really concerned about the results.

Not surprising considering how much pain Tim has been in, and how hard a fall he took back in SC. We had kind of figured there would be some kind of serious injury.

I bet Tim that it would be a small fracture, or that the discs were so compressed it was about to sever the nerve.

Tim bet that it would be some kind of mass.

The doctor walked in and I lost twenty bucks.

Today, we got the worst news...Tim has a large tumor in his spine, which is causing his spine to collapse. The cancer has moved aggressively and is essentially untreatable. The tumor needs to be removed in order to prevent further collapse. Unremoved he will be a quadriplegic within weeks.

There is no cure. There is no treatment. Not at this stage and not with Tim. That decision has been made, and no doctor is encouraging him to change his mind.
We met with the neurosurgeon, and he confirmed all of this, and said the removal of the tumor is just for comfort and quality of life for the remainder.

As all of this was being laid out I could not believe what I was hearing. It was the worst case scenario, the one none of us wanted to believe, the one that we never really thought would happen. It makes everything I have been doing here, completely pointless. There is no recovery, no rebuilding, no hope.

We all knew it was possible, but Tim has always won this battle. I really thought we were going to have a few more years, and even then, I thought, we’ll figure out that one too…there has to be a way. But there isn’t. Not according to this scenario.

I found out today that for sure my brother is going to die really soon. I’m in shock. I’m totally shut down. When the doctor was finished talking I just looked at Tim and said, “You asshole, I owe you twenty bucks.”

So we drove home and told Suzanne, and then I came here and told my Mom. I’m so cold inside right now, I feel absolutely nothing about this.

The other day, I felt it all, but not this time. I talked to Mary and said, please tell me that you are going to say, “Oh, Tim always has an abnormal MRI.”

We laughed, but this is the real thing now.

I don’t know how much time we have. Not much.

This all looks so horribly harsh on this page, and I can’t get the words out fast enough. I’m just cold inside right now.


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