I apologize for not posting on this blog after we returned home from Houston, Texas. Todd continued out-patient treatment and transfusions at our local hospital, Soin Medical Center, Beavercreek, Ohio, until mid-Febuary, when it came time to start his next round of chemotherapy. By this point, Todd was having fevers every 6-8 hours around the clock. We learned that his heart had suffered some damage from the induction chemotherapy given to him to combat the AML back in October, 2016. We also learned that while the fungal infection in his sinus was gone, the infection in his lung continued to grow into a mass, and then spread even further parts of the lungs from there.
His local oncologist here in Dayton, was leaving her practice to take a new position in PA. None of the existing doctors, nor herself, felt that Todd was in any shape to continue to the next round of chemotherapy: 5 days of Decitabine with the experimental regimen of Veneteclax (an FDA approved drug for CLL and Xeljanz (a JAK3 mutation inhibitor in Todd's case). His counts were extremely low, and what healthy marrow he had left was also being destroyed by the chemotherapy.
He continued to lose significant amounts of weight. With no doctor here in Dayton willing to take his case, we returned to The Cleveland Clinic on an inpatient basis the evening of February 10, 2017. They did a thorough investigation into the fevers, to find out if it was the fungal infection or something else causing them. They gave him antifungal IV medication everyday instead of three times a week. They started him on IV antibiotics (Zosyn) around the clock every 6 hours. The doctors there too concluded that Todd was too weak to undergo another round of chemotherapy, even though Todd's last bone marrow biopsy showed his blast counts had dropped to a remarkable 8%. There was just not enough healthy cells to make enough good blood cells. He received transfusions of platelets and red blood cells until the last few days, when the doctors finally decided that he was receiving no benefit from the platelets. His counts would be like 3,000 in the morning and would only bump to maybe 7,000 in the afternoon, only to have them go back down to say 2,000 the next morning. He body was just using them up to quickly.
After a good week of tests and treatments, nothing new was discovered. Their conclusion was that the fungal infection was the likely source of the infection. His platelets were too low for a biopsy (nor removal) of the infection in his lungs, and even if they could determine the exact type of fungus, they doubted that they could give him any stronger antifungal, that what he had already been given. Not only were they treating him with IV antifungals since diagnosis on November 5, 2016, but they added a second antifungal oral tablet called Cresemba about a month ago. The medications could only do about 1/3 of the work to clear up the infection, his body's own immune system needed to do the rest or 2/3 but he had NO immune system of his own.
By mid-week the doctors began to tell us the horrific news that they feared there was nothing else they could do for Todd. Without continued Chemotherapy to treat the MDS, it would go unchecked and progress back to AML. He blood counts would continue to drop to dangerous levels. Without an immune system and in increase in his white and neutrophil counts, the fungal infection too would continue to grow at a faster rate than any of the medications could treat. He was so weak, that he could barely stand up to go to the bathroom. It was time to talk about "DNR" orders, Hospice, and what major decisions we wanted to make.
It was devastating. We laid in his hospital bed together crying; unsure about calling it quits. We trusted the many doctors who came to talk to us, but we had been fighting this for so long, that it seemed unnatural to stop. I knew Todd had been growing increasingly weaker since the first of December, and prayed we made it home to Dayton. He confided to me that he knew it would be his last Christmas. We cried some more. Once we made the decision to take what quality time he had left and go home to be with our family, we couldn't leave fast enough. We wanted to get home to celebrate our eldest daughter's 21st birthday that next day, February 24, 2017.
They discharged Todd from Cleveland Clinic on Thursday, February 23, 2017. Praise God I was able to drive him home after they juiced him up with two days of platelet and blood transfusions. We arrived at home that afternoon, where Hospice of Dayton had already delivered the Home Care bed and equipment, and where my brother and father already had the room ready.
We were blessed to have him at home from that day until Tuesday, February 28, 2017, even though his fevers continued to rage around the clock in cycles of every 6-8 hours of chills, ice packs, and drenching sweats. Todd was brought to the main campus of Hospice of Dayton that morning by ambulance to receive a blood transfusion to help relieve his symptoms of severe fatigue. A Hospice Triage nurse had taken a blood draw from the day before and his hemoglobin had dropped to 6.1. Unfortunately, as soon as Todd was taken from the bed in our home to the gurney, he was in pain and could not take a deep breath. By the time we arrived at Hospice, he was in severe pain. After an examination from the doctor there, we learned that Todd's splenomegaly was back with a vengeance. We were not expecting this! It was very hard at first for the team there to get his pain under control. We decided to stay the night and maybe a few more days, until he was more comfortable. They had tried to access his port for the transfusion, but were unable to. So they had to set up a pheriphal line in a vein in his hand to give him IV pain meds and finish the 2 units of blood.
By that evening, he was more relaxed and able to get some long term pain meds (methadone) and short term pain meds (dilaudid) around the clock. Todd's mind was sharp and his memory spotless. He was responsive and at times his usual witty self until Sunday, March 5, 2017, when we asked all visitors to stay away and allow just me and the kids to have personal time alone with him. He asked us to say our peace and he told us his. We cried together, shared our love for each other, and then he said he couldn't hold his eyes open anymore, he was so tired. He said to call for the nurse; he wanted to take his scheduled pain medicine and go to sleep. That night we hung out together as Todd mostly slept. By Monday, he was much less responsive and couldn't really speak. This was so hard. By Tuesday, he was totally unresponsive and his breathing became very hard. The kids said their evening goodbyes and I refused to go to sleep. The Hospice nurses moved Todd to a position where I could climb into bed with him and sleep beside him throughout the night. His breathing was so hard, that it shook the bed. I was so happy to be with him, but my heart was full of regrets: that maybe there was still something else we couldn't have tried to save him; maybe that I should have been more encouraging to continue the fight and not give in to reality; the realization that he was the bravest person I knew to say goodbye to us on Sunday, and accept that he was going to die. I couldn't have done this! I loved him so much!!!
He chose 6:15 a.m. with just the two of us in the room to take his last breaths. I couldn't believe he was gone. I felt some peace that he was not in pain anymore, but then I was so sad that I lost the love of my life and our children lost the best father they could have ever had. I regretted not appreciating him more!
Here is the link to his obituary:
http://www.newcomerdayton.com/Obituary/133931/Todd-Cade/Dayton-Ohio
We laid Todd's body to rest on Monday, March 13, 2017. We know he is not there. He has gone on to his eternal reward with Christ our Lord. Please continue to pray for the family as we grieve his absence.
Here is the tribute I wrote and read at his funeral:
Todd gave me
the best 25 years of his life! He was greatest husband and father we could have
hoped for. He was faithful, strong, and
always made sure we were provided for. When
Todd and I made the decision that I would stay home to raise our kids, he took
on extra hours at work by moving into a management position that often required
60 hours per week. We never did
without. Even in the past two years
while he was sick he helped me to sell a few cars on our own to provide some
extra income to the family. Todd always
put us first. He was the adventurous,
risk-taker and I was the cautious and conservative one; we balanced each other
out. I was such a realist that he
jokingly dubbed me the “dream killer.” His humor and quick wit was his charming
tool to add fun to any situation or to disarm any conflict. His years of service for Christ may have went
unnoticed to this world, but not to those he blessed nor to his children, who
saw him repeatedly give his limited time to church service to the Glory of
God. He lived his life on purpose and
set out to be a blessing to others. He
was always positive and never complained about all the treatments and
transfusions he needed these past years.
His optimism was contagious and even in his last weeks of life told the
doctors he didn’t understand their pessimism and negativity! He would have done anything, no matter the
pain or cost to himself, if he could buy more time to be with his family. He taught me so much about life and I had the
greatest privilege to be intimately close to him as his wife these 25 ½ years.
Todd was not
very sentimental or romantic, but he still found ways to shower me with
love. He was a steady rock; an oak
tree. He didn’t write or journal much,
or didn’t even leave any letters for the future, but If Todd was here, this is
what I imagine he would say:
Don’t stand
here and cry for me,
I am not
here. This is just the body that housed
my spirit and my soul
I am still
with you. I live on in your memories and
through my children; be good to them.
Love them
like I would and be there to comfort and support them when they need it.
I am no
longer suffering and we will all be reunited in the Hope of the Resurrection
Christ has given to us.
My life was full and fulfilled in every way. I have no regrets, only gratitude for the
life and love that I had.
I love you all. Be full of joy; savor every precious moment
of time together; and follow your dreams.
I did recently find a journal in which he wrote a few pages
in during our Epic Road Trip out West in 2012.
IT was his bucket list goal and Dream.
(I read a few passages; omitted here).
I love you Todd!
