Type... Erase... Type... Erase...

Thank you to everyone who’s reached out with concern—I know I’ve been unusually quiet. I truly appreciate you checking in; honestly, I’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed. For those who’ve given me space, trusting that I’d speak up when I was ready, I’m grateful for you too.

The purpose of this blog has always been to put my thoughts in one place, so we can all stay on the same page. But over the past couple of weeks, the problem is… I haven’t really known what I think or feel.  Hence the title... Type... Erase...

I miss home.
I miss my wife.
I miss Emily, Aya, and Thomas.
I miss the rhythm of normal life—sleeping through the night, having routines, feeling grounded.
I just want things to go back to normal as soon as possible.

The hardest part? None of this is in my hands.

What stands between me and my family?

Tomorrow, I meet with the radiation oncologist. I assume I’ll be scoped, and then I’ll find out if he thinks the past nine weeks of hell were effective. His verdict is out of my control—what he says is what it is.

Let’s say—optimistically—he gives me good news. Then what?

On Tuesday, I meet with my ENT. Another scope. Another opinion on whether the treatment worked.

I won’t pretend it’s easy to sit with the possibility that it didn’t. It’s a gut punch just thinking about it.

If I do get cleared, I’ll need surgery to have my port removed, and from there, hopefully I can finally start planning my return home.

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On a different note:

I’ve been slowly reintroducing more food into my diet. I can eat a little more now, though the portions are still small. My taste buds haven’t really come back yet, so eating is more about fueling my body than enjoying meals. But it’s progress.