He's okay, I'm freaking out

It's a sign of the times when you're conferenced into your husband's oncology appointment via speaker-phone on his cell. Because you leave for your employer's big annual conference in two days, and work has been . . . intense for the last three weeks.

So, hi y'all. And yes, we finally have an answer. Rituxan it is. And yes, several weeks ago, this was our best-case scenario.

So why am I so glum?

Because this is forever. Because Dan's cancer won't kill him, but it will never go away. Because it took us nearly three months, three surgeries, four doses of radiation, a bone marrow biopsies, and a dozen blood tests just to get to this point. I know what "monitoring" means -- more ingested isotopes, more lost days in doctors' waiting rooms, and many, many more insurance statements. [Brief aside: my boss did bring up the status of my employer's insurance saying that the employee contribution WOULD be going up this year -- "in no small part due to the Margulies family," while unsaid, did not go unthought, I believe.]

So, this never goes away. And that just sucks.