Tuesday, January 31, 2006

There comes a point in time when you have to stop chasing rainbows.

To look at Zoë now you’d never know there was anything wrong with her. In fact, there may not be anything wrong with her - at least in terms of the cancer - but how can we be sure?

Surgery has successfully removed the tumour, but at this point in time they can’t be sure they’ve eliminated all the cancer cells that may lie in the surrounding tissue. As such, in order to be as positive as we can be that the cancer won’t come back, a course of radiotherapy and chemo has been recommended - but there will be side-affects.

Of course, she doesn’t have to have the treatment… She may be OK. But the doctor’s might just as well quote Dirty Harry: “You've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky?...... Well, do ya punk?”

(And incidentally, it’s not just a case of “let’s see how we go, we can always try the radiotherapy if it does come back”. Oh no, it’s not that simple - chances are, if it does, it will be worse.)

It doesn’t really leave us with a lot of choice. Our number one priority has been - and always will be - that Zoë gets better, and neither of us is prepared to gamble on that.

So we’re both agreed that the radiotherapy option is the safest way to go, but as you may know, the hope that we might still have our own children is something we’ve been holding out for. We realised early on that this was, at best, unlikely, but I think we both thought - hoped even - that we’d still got a chance.

There were a couple possibilities that might give us a chance in the future, but the fact that they would involve further surgery - possibly extensive - meant they were not really practical. Zoë’s only just recovered from her last operation, and more surgery is the last thing she needs before embarking on the radiotherapy - and besides neither of these options were in any way guaranteed.

Realistically then the only practical option we were look at was the prospect of surrogacy - an emotionally difficult concept to accept - never mind the logistics of actually finding a suitable surrogate and achieving a successful pregnancy.

I think before we went to the hospital last Thursday we both believed that the 'egg harvesting' required to keep this hope alive was a mere formality. Regrettably however, it is not.

In short, we’d basically be looking at only one shot at an IVF cycle (a cycle many couples will have to go through several times to achieve a pregnancy - because the success rate is so low – even without complications such as Zoë’s) so the odds are stacked against us.

Every step of the way we’ve been given hope that we might yet still have our own children. The odds have never been good, and now they’re verging on astronomical. Furthermore, we can’t afford to keep waiting - if the radiotherapy and chemo are to be effective, then we need to act soon.

It’s a tough decision, but we’re both agreed on one thing: It’s time to move on and remember our number one priority... So we’re off to the hospital tomorrow to get the radiotherapy ball rolling.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sending hugs for both of you, I am not good with words am afraid but am thinking of both of you and have been all along.

Please don't post this on your blog Zoe

Kate (Poppums) xx

Anonymous said...

Good luck and I'm thinking of you. Get well first and I'm sure good things will follow if you can hold on to hope.

Anonymous said...

Matt,

What an incredibly thoughtful post. I truly hope all works out for you.

I have tears in my eyes from reading.

Sending good wishes, and positive vibes your way.

Sharon.xxx

blondie said...

Matt "THE KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR"

I will be praying for you guys everyday. I also have tears running down my cheeks.

love to you both.
Pip

Anonymous said...

Oh - my heart aches for you both.

Good luck with the radiotherapy.

With kindest regards

marathonrunner68 (TMF)