It’s been extremely hot day after day. It’s 6:30 a.m. now, and we’ve already finished breakfast. Yuki will leave for the hospital in about 30 minutes.
He has the first appointment of the day, so he’ll have blood tests and a chest X-ray before seeing the doctor. I’ll leave home just before 8:00 a.m.
The doctor is expected to explain the CT scan results and discuss what lies ahead. We know we have to accept whatever comes, but it’s still hard to face.
Anyway, that was my morning update.
Saturday is here. We made it through this week.
It suddenly became very hot and humid. I've been suffering from the summer heat, so I often spend my afternoons sleeping. Yuki has been dozing off in front of his computer, too. I guess we're both in the same boat.
As usual, during the third week of his treatment cycle, Yuki's white blood cell count dropped, so he wasn't able to receive chemotherapy this week.
Next week is finally the CT scan. We'll discuss the results with his doctor and decide how to move forward with his treatment. The doctor has already told us that there are almost no treatment options left.
Since Yuki couldn't have chemotherapy yesterday, we finished at the hospital much earlier than usual and treated ourselves to a wonderful lunch. Thankfully, both of us have been getting our appetites back, so we're doing all right.
Even though the future is uncertain, we're grateful for the small, ordinary moments we can still enjoy together.
Yuki seems to be doing all right on the surface. He was able to have another round of chemotherapy this week. Based on the pattern so far, I don’t think he’ll have chemotherapy next week.
Today, he’s been asked to play the bass in a band, so he’s going to perform. I’m really glad he was able to go.
However, we also learned this time that the chemotherapy he’s currently receiving is becoming less effective. The shadows on his lungs have become more pronounced again. He’ll have a CT scan at the end of this month, and I suppose everything depends on the results. His doctor has even said that this may be the last chemotherapy option available to him, so all we can do is wait and see what happens.
People often describe chemotherapy as a form of life-prolonging treatment. Our hope is simply that he can continue it without suffering severe side effects, so that he can live with the tumor as part of his daily life.
This afternoon, I’ll be joining an online meeting aboutshūkatsu, which is a Japanese term that has become very common in recent years. It refers to preparing for the final stage of one’s life—not only making arrangements for end-of-life care and funerals, but also organizing finances, legal documents, personal belongings, and thinking about how you want to live the rest of your life. I’m not sure whether there’s a single word for this concept in English.
When my mother was nearing the end of her life, I went through many experiences. Because of that, I earned a private certification as a Shūkatsu Advisor. It doesn’t mean I can do anything special, but it has connected me with people who share the same interest. That’s why I’m joining today’s meeting, to discuss what I might be able to do in the future. I’m not sure how much of my personal situation I’ll be able to discuss.
It’s already July, and we’re still in the middle of Japan’s rainy season. Thankfully, we haven’t had any heavy rain here yet, although it has been drizzling quite often.
As usual, my thoughts tend to be on the negative side; this weather is making me feel even more down than usual.
Still, a few good things happened last week. Yuki was able to receive his treatment. The side effects have already started again, but we’re genuinely grateful that he could have the treatment, that the medication is still working, and that it has given him more time. I just hope the side effects won’t become too severe this time.
Last week, Yuki’s younger brother came to visit us from Tokyo. They had promised each other, “Let’s meet again once the inheritance issues are settled,” and at last he was able to come. It was a quiet visit, though—there is no contact with his eldest brother.
Yesterday, a computer technician came to repair my PC. I think it’s working again... at least I hope so.
Now a new week has begun. I hope I’ll be able to keep up with my usual routine.
The photo shows rhubarb from our garden, preserved with sugar.
I’m happy to share some good news—this time, two of my haiku were selected in an online haiku group.
In the blazing midday sun, a summer butterfly that does not fear the light
An elderly couple, new rubber boots, the start of the rainy season
Now for this month… I wonder how it will go?
Hard to throw away—bamboo stick for pressing tokoroten, and tokoroten itself
A changed streetscape—at the café, a frappé; how stylish!
Summer arrives—the same old azuki ice stick still feels familiar, even in old age
