thetravelingwithers.com

This guy… oof. Y’all… This is some heavy stuff…

My husband, the all-around good guy Ross Doc Wither, went to a routine ophthalmologist appointment a few weeks ago to address some flashing light in Ross’ right eye. The doctor noticed that his retina was misaligned and sent him to a retinal specialist. After meeting with the retinal specialist he was referred to an ocular oncologist in Houston, Texas. So, this past Thursday, we set off on a 5-hour drive, and on Friday, after a series of tests, including an eye ultrasound, we now know he has a rare eye cancer called uveal melanoma. Uveal melanoma is skin cancer in the eyeball. Doc’s right eyeball to be exact. He has a mass that is 17.5mm wide and 6.1mm tall. 11/16ths of an inch … a dime is 17mm. The eyeball is generally the size of a quarter. Ok. Now what?

He gets to undergo plaque brachytherapy. Right now, scientists are fashioning a custom 24-karat plaque. The plaque will have “seeds” of radiation placed specifically to eradicate the tumor. In a few weeks, that plaque will be inserted into Doc’s eye and then removed 7 days later after bombarding the cancer with radiation. No, we don’t get to keep it. Doc is calling it his “eye grill.” I love his sense of humor.

Next Tuesday, he gets an MRI of his abdomen because the eye is connected to the liver (oddly enough) and a CT of his chest to make sure nothing has spread beyond his eyeball.

It’s surreal. Ross isn’t the guy in the house who gets sick. He’s usually the one taking care of all of us. Puttering around and picking up whatever has been left out. Chef, chauffeur, counselor, referee, tailor, baker, general contractor, landscaper, nurse, tutor. He wears so many hats.

The experience has had ups and downs but mostly ups. We have an amazing team of doctors working with us to get things done as quickly and safely as possible. We are so grateful for our family and friends who have made themselves available to help out from all sorts of ways including checking in through text and calls, watching our pack of 4 kids, and making sure their lives aren’t disrupted in all this, offering meals, literally fixing the kitchen sink when it decided to bust while we were out of town. We are blessed in so many ways.

We keep getting asked what folks can do for us. The first thing is to pray. Send a thought of healing to us and our family. Send a thought of wisdom and patience to the doctors and our care team. Send a thought of justice to our community because there is no one within 100 miles of us that can perform this procedure. I am so grateful that we are finding the means and resources to make this treatment possible for us. Send thoughts of safe travel for everyone connected to this journey.

We have set up a GoFundMe (https://gofund.me/2c39fbfd) where folks can send support through monetary contributions to help us pay for his treatment and the travel expenses needed to get us back and forth from Houston to Baton Rouge. We also have a CareCalendar (https://www.carecalendar.org/logon/316099) where folks can sign up locally to bring food and visit with Ross’ parents and our kids while we are seeking treatment and after we’re home to help us ease back into life after treatment. Thank you for your love and support. It means the world to us. Seriously, we love every single one of you.