We all know someone who has been touched with Cancer. But whether it is Cancer, or some other devastating situation or disease, the victims are many. Collateral damage touches Friends Family and caregivers. These are their Stories, in their words, for they are all Heroes!
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We have a history of cancer in our family. My Mom's sister, had Breast Cancer and died 17 years ago. Then my Mom 1982 had colon cancer, & in 1986 Breast Cancer, and now 1/2000, Breast Cancer METs to the rib cage. I have two 1st cousins that also were diagnosed with breast cancer in the last 3 years. My Dad also has skin cancer. He has been fighting this for at least 25-30 years. His is the best kind to have. It can be seen right away and taken care of.
I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer stage 1 in 8/1993. I had a lumpectomy, all negative lymph nodes 9/3/1993. I had 26 treatments of radiation. I was put on tamoxifen and stayed on it through 2/1995. For several months prior to 2/1995, I began to feel very tired, drug out, no energy, was always cold. My previous gynecology exam 2/1994 was clear. But I began having problems as time wore on. Finally, 1st week of 1/1995, I had 3 days of heavy bleeding, and became very scared. I called my gynecologist that Monday & had an appointment for Wednesday. A sonogram was done & the Doc said that I had to have a D & C. So, I had one that Friday. The following Thursday, January 17, 1995, my Dad's birthday, I was diagnosed with Endometrial Carcinoma. February 5, 1995, I had a complete hysterectomy and 33 lymph nodes were removed. The final diagnosis was Endometrial Carcinoma Stage 3C group2. The protocol for me was to have chemo. I was so scared I pleaded with my Oncologist could I have just radiation again. He consulted with the Radiation Oncologist and they decided that I could have radiation. I had 26 treatments of radiation plus three HDR's. Which is High Density Radiation, internally.
I worked during my 1st treatments for the Breast Cancer, 6 hours a day from September 1993 to the middle of December 1993. Then after my hysterectomy I was off for 6 weeks, then went back to work part time again for 6 hours per day. I did that through August 1995. Then I had to look for another job because the hours had been cut to 15 hours a week. I'm doing okay now except for occasional problems with my intestines & stomach, I think, due to the surgery and radiation.I also have mild lymphedema in my rt. arm and in both legs, both due to surgery, and radiation. The lymphedma in my legs is mainly from my knees down to my feet.
Lymphedema is similar to edema, in that there is swelling in the limbs caused by fluid retention. However, in lymphedema it's the lymphatic fluid, which is thicker than water, becomes difficult to circulate through the body because of lymph nodes being removed and radiation. I had a bad case of excema when the lymphedema first occured in 12/1995. I had open sores and my legs itched terribly. I still have the scarring and redness in my legs and the skin is rough. However, it's much better. I lost a lot of the mobility in my legs for almost a year. But now that's improved
Avis is the widow of a fellow laryngectomee. She is probably as close to family as anyone in our group is. During her husband's illness she shared without pride or pretense her feelings and her heart with us. We all felt her loss and we all grieve with her. She is the best example I can find of a successful survivor. She is amazing and I love her dearly! Please read her story....
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I wasn't ready for this. Usually when you go on a trip you prepare for it. You settle our household affairs , say your goodbyes to me and the children with always a cheery "I'll be back soon", and leave me with a set of instructions, until you return. Then you call me, as soon as you arrive , to let me know that you're all right and I hold my breath till you return home again. But this time , it caught us all by surprise, instead of getting better, as we all anticipated, you died ! Your journey was in your death, which we didn't expect, so there was no preparation , no order, no plan. And I am left here, alone, without you.
My idea of saying goodbye to a loved one , who suddenly became "terminal", is very different than what actually happened. I would get out the photo albums . Reminisce and savor all the aspects of our days together. Highlighting the strengths and wonderment of our special life , it's challenges, hopes and dreams and realizing the beautiful children given to us to cherish , guide and care for. I would be there, as always , through thick and thin . I wouldn't abandon you now , when you needed me the most ! I would be loving and patient and cheerful when called for, and cry the tears of fear and pain with you, for you and for me and our family , who are to be left behind, when the dance is over. I would grieve for things still undone, aspirations unfulfilled. I would do what ever you wished , catering to your every need and desire. Sometimes it would be nothing....just holding your hand and being near, but I would be there.....taking the precious "time to say goodbye", trying to experience as much of you as I could , before you leave me, forever, for eternity.
"Who Am I ?"
It has been 2 months since you've been gone . And I'm trying to heal , so that I can become a person again. I honestly don't know who I am . I was always a wife and mother, my chosen role, but now, who am I without you? At my age it's even harder to figure that out and many opportunities have passed me by , leaving me to feel that the road for me is short and dreary ahead. Half of me has gone with you , and I will never be the same again . Instead, I am a far better person for having had you in my life. You have taught me so much and loved me so much and I am humble and honored to have been the one you asked to spend your life with.
" Nobody Cared ."
The day after you died, I went to the grocery store for a few essentials. It really seemed so strange to witness the world going on as usual . Everything was the same. Your absence didn't matter to anyone but me and your family. The clock kept ticking as usual and Oprah was still on at 4 PM. When it was time to cash out, the cashier cheerfully chirped, "Hi , how are you?".......... Doesn't she see that I am in agony? That my eyes are so swollen from crying all night and my heart is ripped right out of me , leaving a big , empty hole in it's place? I answer, "Fine, thank you, " but I can't face her because the tears are rolling down my face (again). Funny, I can spot the widows in the store, all the time. Why can't they? I wanted to put a sign on my fore head to let people know that I was in great pain and to tread lightly ! How dare they laugh and carry on , as if you never even existed ? How could they be so insensitive?
"How To Spot A Widow !"
Widows look lost. They're not rushed . No sense of urgency. No one to hurry home to, to fix supper for. Time is no longer important to them and making dinner for just one is even harder to think about. Now, they actually have the time to read the labels , but who really cares anymore? They're usually nicely dressed with their hair fixed, (they wouldn't want their husbands to be ashamed of them). But the one thing in their faces that I see is that they've lost their "fight !" Their friend , their lover, their soul mate has gone, so they melt insignificantly into their surroundings. Nothing has structure anymore. Nothing really matters much anymore. And what's even worse is when you see a man, all by himself, floundering around the store trying to get through the food shopping ordeal, in this massive grocery maze. You know he must be a lonely widower, another somber soul.
"Touching Others' Lives."
Your passing has affected everyone in the family, even our youngest grandchildren. You left your mark on the world with your presence . And your workmanship, as a master carpenter , speaks for itself, still standing proud , giving pleasure and function to its' many owners . We are forever changed by your absence . Things are different now. There is such a massive void in our being. I was always told that, no matter what we may think, we touch someone, somewhere, with our birth and our death. This is certainly true. Your life gave me love. My love gave you life . And this carries down through each precious generation.
"Maybe Tea And Toast?"
Food was of no importance to me anymore. However, unlike many who are grieving and can not eat much at all, I did the very opposite. When I thought about eating, I wanted a little of anything and everything in sight ! Would it be the macaroni and cheese or that donut somebody left next to the potato chips? I was frantically searching for comfort , even through food , because I remembered that when I was a little girl, my mother would give me weak tea and cinnamon toast , to soothe me, if I wasn't feeling well. It always made me better. So needless to say , I immediately ran for the tea and toast , but this didn't fill my needs, and cooking was out was out of the question . I couldn't concentrate, nor did I care. Why would I want to cook, just for me? But no matter what I put in my mouth, I still didn't feel satisfied . As time went on , I began to try to eat more nutritious small meals , so I wouldn't get run down. My daughter kept making me take my vitamins ," because that was what dad would have wanted ," she would say. I wasn't trying to move forward, I was just trying to survive standing still, since going ahead was too fearful. Maybe if I could make time freeze a bit, I could get my balance ?
"Miss / Mr./ Mrs.?"
Filling out some forms, led me to wonder who I am, again. I'm not a Miss, nor a Mr. but am I still considered a Mrs.? Legally, I could get married tomorrow , if I wanted to, though that's the last thing I can even think about right now. "Why marry, and possibly go thought this painful loss again?", I thought to myself. I just couldn't even contemplate this, at this time. Anyone I marry would more than likely be my age or older, and that's very close to being at the last round-up . I still didn't really know how to answer this question , they left no room for other possibilities and the box had to be checked off. Am I married or single? Mrs. or Miss? I refuse to be a Ms. which wasn't a choice, anyway. Finally, after great thought......................... I wrote in "widow".
"The W Word"
"Oh my God I'm a widow!" I practically choked on this reality, which bought to mind the day when one of the Masons came to take me to lunch to give me a pin and card, since my hubby belonged . I thought it was for my husband.....this was a week after his death, but I was then told , that it was for all the widows in their organization. When I heard him call me a widow ( this was the first time I had been called this) I almost got sick , I could hardly breathe for a moment. " I don't want to be a widow ! I never wanted to be a widow ! Please , don't call me that !", I thought to myself. " "I just want him back!"
"Who Said Sleep Was Restful?"
On the first night, after his death, sleeping, was not as difficult as I had anticipated . My daughter slept with me, to keep me company . I took two aspirin and got ready for bed, where I collapsed from emotional exhaustion. But toward morning, from 3:30 am on.....I began having vivid venting dreams of all that had occurred during the trauma of his death , at home. My daughter and I were here with him when it all happened, and the memory of this would re-play in my mind over and over and never stop. But there is one thing that really bothers me and that is, when I'm thinking about him , I cannot not see his face!.....I want to see his face . I want to know if he was afraid ,or in pain or whatever his eyes would tell me. I want to savor every second of those last moments because that was the last time I saw him alive ......and to not remember his precious features , has me frantic ! My subconscious tells me that this is so, to allow me time to heal, and that maybe someday his face will come to me again. In the meantime, I keep looking at his healthy, happy photos of days past, because I believe that this is the way he is now. This keeps me going even though those flashbacks occur many times of the day and night. No, sleeping is not restful , for me anyway.
"A Pillow To Hug"
I kept his pillow and haven't washed the pillow case yet......so I can smell his scent and feel his energy . And when I need someone to hold , I find myself hugging "it." I wear his watch and his flannel shirts when it's cold. They hug me too. I cannot bear to get rid of his clothes in our closet. Seeing them hanging there allows me to think that maybe I was dreaming and I'll wake up and everything will be all right again and he won't be dead. In the meantime, I refuse to make more emptiness in my life by getting rid of his clothes , his car, his tools , his "things". I feel comforted by them being here close to me. It may take me a very long time to part with them............if ever. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. I'm in no rush. I need them, for now.
"Making A Living , Isn't The Same As Living!"
Working again, 3 days after his death, was almost unbearable to me. Unfortunately, I must bring in the money to survive, so I have to work. I take care of the ill and terminally ill, ironically. What seems to hurt me the most is the feeling that I am living everyone else's' life and not my own. The minute I walk into their homes, I have to do, think , say and be, whatever they want and need. What about my pain and my grief? What about me? What about my needs and my sorrow. I needed to be nurtured and loved too...but there was no one there for me, yet I was there for others. I was in agony and great sadness getting through the long hours in the day, and couldn't wait to get home again. If I didn't have to work, I would not have gone back , so soon or not at all. When I was ready and stronger, I would have volunteered my time , on my terms, if and when I felt like it ! But for me, this was not an option, unless I wanted to be homeless. As for having a life of my own, I don't !
"Where Did He Go?"
When I came upon a group of women talking, I noticed a couple of interesting things in the way they expressed themselves. One was that, they would say ," I lost my husband."........why would anyone say that? They knew where he was. Another term they used , that seemed strange, was that " he passed away. " This may be so for some , but my husband did not "pass away" which, to me, would imply that it was quietly or insignificantly during his sleep or in a hospital room with drugs and care. I was there. I know! His death was traumatic! All of this was foreign territory to me, I would be using phrases I've never used before, words I barely ever said. And as I began to think hard about these references, I decided to say , in plain English, very simply, that "my husband died! "
"Grieving Is Personal"
Around the holidays, someone mentioned how "she had to get out of her house, because everything there reminded her of him !" Which is probably a common feeling. But I felt that, during the holidays , "I had to stay in my house , because everything there reminded me of him ! And it gave me great solace!" I felt I was not alone. I could sense his essence all around me , from the energy he had left behind. I didn't want to accept all the invitations I got ( just because I would be alone at Christmas). I wanted to be alone (with my husband). You can be in a crowded room and still be lonely.
"Which Stage Am I In?"
I hate being put in a category, because the book says that grieving comes in various stages. One of these stages is anger . I had some loose ends to clean up after his untimely death, and I probably sounded bitter and angry to some who heard my plight. I believe that the words anxious and sad would better describe it. Anxious, because when you find out that someone you love is terminally ill....you have a sense of urgency that no one else can fully comprehend, such as the lab, the doctors, the hospitals, ambulance personal etc. after all,. they have their rules and regulations. They don't realize that every moment could be his last and he's about to leave this earth, and all that he knows and loves , forever . We had no time to dawdle in waiting rooms or argue about whether or not I can ride in the ambulance with him . They don't seem to understand the situation and its painful finality with all the sadness that consumes you , because of it.
" Overwhelmed "
Credit cards, mortgage payments, water bill , insurance, car repair, gasoline, food, heat., electricity, and on and on it goes. Since I'm not 65 yet......I don't get all of my husbands social security, but lose my own. And not having his paycheck anymore ( since he's been sick, for the past year ) has put a strain on our financial situation. This was the part that overwhelmed me the most. It was all new to me. I never did the income taxes......he did. In fact we were of the "old school" whereby the mother stayed home with the kids and the father was the bread winner. I quickly found out that anyone can pay bills when you have the money! But what happens when you don't? I knew I needed to go out and find work that would pay me what he was earning, which would then ,take me away from being home with him, when he needed me the most in his life ! I finally did it ! I found 3 jobs ! But the guilt that went with being gone all day and some nights , almost killed me. I fought to NOT have a nervous breakdown, because I was unable to be with him, most of the time. To this day, I am full of regret. I know he understood and was glad I found the work to keep us afloat (one less worry for him). But this was never my big "roll" in life. I was the one who cared for the sick and wounded, in our house. I was always there to nurture, comfort and love, but not this time . The most important time in our lives!
"Our Life In Shreds"
My husband kept all his financial records, from way back when. To be certain , I asked a lawyer how long I should keep these. She said 7 years or 10, to be safe. So from 1955 to 1991 could be destroyed. I had this need to "lighten my load", as much as I could, so that when I die, my children won't have this burden , which would be , needlessly difficult and time consuming for them. I tried to think of a way to destroy the records privately, so no one would know our business at the dump! I have a gas fireplace , so burning them wouldn't work. Then it dawned on me. A paper shredder! As I shred each paper I re-live the moment of every loan and bill and item on them. This was actually as nostalgic as browsing through a photo album. I felt good about keeping our privacy in this way. Now to think of some use for shredded papers?
"A Safe Place To Cry"
Every time I get in my car to drive to work, I find it has become my place of "letting go", my safe place, where things are quiet and still and no one can pop in on you unexpectedly. Two months is not enough time to heal and I know that I have a long way to go but I found that a good release for me, was to write my feelings down on paper. It seems to get it out of me , because I realize that nobody really wants to listen. They think that you'll get over the death of a loved one, in a few weeks. Haven't you heard people say; " He's at peace now, he's not suffering anymore." (which I like to think is true) . Or, in other words , GET OVER IT ! " Move on, go forward. " " Get a life of your own , now." "Focus on something else and you'll forget the hurt. " Sometimes they just don't know what to say......so they avoid you. This would suggest that death is awkward for people. Another thing they might do is tell you that you need to "cry" and let it out. And when you do, they tell you to," get ahold of yourself " . These confusing messages leave you feeling more lonely. A support group of like people may be a comfort.
"Death , The Final Surrender."
I don't really know how to end this , because the story goes on, it isn't over yet. I feel as if the hereafter is not so far away, anymore, now that my love has died. I believe it has brought the two worlds closer together, for me. I sense his spirit guiding me and often very close to me. When I need him, he is there. I talk to him, all the time, and if I listen quietly, the knowing is my answer . And I'm not so afraid, when it's my time to leave, because I believe that he will be there waiting for me with his hand stretched out to mine and I will be safe, once again, with him. Together we will guide and help those we love, who are left behind. But for now, I'll do my best to live every day of the rest of my life and do all that I possibly can to love and assist others, while I am still here on this earth, until my final surrender, and we meet again in another dimension.
Lonely but not alone,
Avis
Like myself, Stan is a Laryngectomee. He is a scrapper, and a tough man, until I read his story I just did not realize how tough!
Webster defines a survivor as "one who remains alive or existent" or "one who out lives or out lasts". If that were the case, I guess any of us reading this qualify as a "survivor". But unlike the nonsense currently portrayed on television these days, we are not vying for some tremendous cash prize. Our reward, if there be any, is to perhaps get through another day and if we're real lucky we may have the opportunity to help another along the way.
But that's "our" story in general and this is supposed to be "my" story - up close and personal, if you will. Let me begin by saying that I am not totally proud of my story for it bares some serious character defects for the world to see. I do this neither for glory nor fame but rather to offer hope to those who might think they have "screwed up royally" and to illustrate that we can turn things around.
How do I qualify as a "survivor"? Let's take roll call - Severe emphysema diagnosis in 1993, laryngeal cancer followed by a total laryngectomy in 1995, prostate cancer and resultant surgery in 1997, pneumonia in 1999, admitted alcoholic and broken shoulder in 2000. And after all of this, a power greater than myself allows me to go on and try to correct some of these mistakes for which I alone was responsible.
Now I would expect that there are some kind people reading this who would say, "How can you blame yourself for cancer or pneumonia?" It's very simple, I simply ignored many warning signs while I still had time to reduce the end result of those signs.
Had I heeded the emphysema diagnosis and quit smoking, it is possible that the laryngectomy may not have been necessary. Had I been honest with myself as to my true feelings after the prostate surgery and laryngectomy, perhaps my "social drinking" would not have progressed into alcoholism. It would be very easy for me to take the attitude of others in a similar situation and blame the Tobacco Companies for my lung and cancer problems and then blame the Liquor Manufacturers and the "lousy break" I had gotten from life for my drinking problems. But in all honesty, I can't do that, I never recall a time in the past eight years when a gun was pointed at my head and I was forced to do any of the things which led to my current situation. I have no one to blame but myself.
However, on the other hand, I can hold my head up today and say that I've dealt with these problems and "survive" today. I have been very fortunate in that I have a wonderful wife and children who never gave up on me and I am even more fortunate that I still have them today. For that, I owe them the honesty to accept my roll in my "fall from grace".
We can never be sure what tomorrow holds or if there will be a tomorrow. Perhaps more trials await me in the future and if that be the case, all I can ask is that I've learned some very valuable lessons over the past eight years and this knowledge will soften the effect of whatever fate has in store for me.
Do I sound like a hero? Well if it appears that way, that was not my objective. My goal is to share with you that the human spirit can and will overcome many physical shortcomings if we just do our best to maintain a positive attitude and appreciation for what we have rather than dwelling on what is wrong in our lives.
I never liked the use of the term "survivor" in relation to former cancer patients or alcoholics, for that matter. I would rather look at us as a group of very fortunate people who have been given a second, or third or fourth chance to do some good in this world. We owe it to ourselves, those we love and those lives we touch to take every advantage of that opportunity.
Life is too short to sit around whining - LIVE LONG AND PROSPER.
Stan 28 March 01
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