So
Sal is taking a blog off for Chemo #6 and I, Paul, am happy to fill in. Although my
thoughts are hard sometimes to peg down into a coherent stream of consciousness, I will strive to do Sally proud. So, as most of you know, it has been a life
altering 117 days that she and I have been through since March 30th.
The world that we had been creating for ourselves after 3,199 days together had
taken us many places around the country and world and had helped to shape what
we believed that we were doing was the path we were intended to take. Day 3200 however would be a change of
direction. As Sal can probably attest
to, sometimes we can be of a rigid mindset that focuses a lot of our attention
on things that we feel are important and that the other superfluous things in
life just fall to the wayside. But day
3200 was different. We were forced to examine every facet our life in an attempt to determine what is truly valuable and
necessary to our existence moving forward.
After
Sal’s diagnosis, I was filled with quite a bit of emotions. My mind raced and my thoughts drifted from
the worst case scenario to who do I need to call and when to what is needed for Sally in the moment to a hundred different other things. But
one of the things that we agreed upon on the evening of March 30th before I left the hospital was that we
were not initially going to “google” anything until after we knew the full
extent of the diagnosis that Sal was set to receive. This helped to ease my mind as best it could that night so we
at least wouldn’t have the knowledge that google possesses until we knew
exactly what type and severity of cancer that Sally had. As I left her that night at the hospital on
my way to our empty home, I will never forget the chill of the night air and
the deafening silence that was brought by the small flakes of snow that fell in
late March. Usually I marvel at snow,
but that night, I couldn’t feel anything related to those previous feelings of
wonder.
The
next morning, I felt as though I had a terrible nightmare and rolled over to
reach for Sally but my hands were met with empty sheets and I then realized
that the nightmare was in fact actual and not imagined. As I went down the stairs, I did not grasp
the beginnings of how hard this process would be until I realized that my hands
were shaking so severely while making coffee that could not even complete the
act. I instinctively recalled some of
the skills that I have taught to others in my 10 years of mental health work
and got through the moment. But these
instances of fear and paralysis that gripped every part of my body and mind I
knew were far from over. As the days moved
forward and Sally came home from the hospital and was greeted by packages from
friends abroad and guests that filled our home with love and warmth, I began to
believe that things were going to get better.
And, I knew if anyone was going to fight this diagnosis and succeed, it
would be Sally.
Eventually there came a point that Sally was able to return to work as we
continued to entertain guests that would come for various amounts of time
ranging from hours to days to weeks. Our
home became something that it had not been for the entire time in which we
owned it. The house became alive and
vibrant and full of an outpouring of love and affection. I will be completely transparent here and note
that although we did have a loving and inviting home in the time previous in
which we had been together, we were facing an almost critical overload of love
and support of guests and friends in the house.
It was and is nice to have others around from time to time but the house
was feeling like a larger chore that was taking a bulky amount of effort,
energy, and focus and was seemingly taking away from the greater task at hand
which was the care and well-being of Sally. I do recognize that those that came
and stayed were showing their love and care and concern for Sally and even
though it was difficult for me, their pain and discomfort about the situation
could not be overlooked. For me, being the primary caregiver, the added
responsibilities I had taken with the immediacy of the moment and the burden
and continuity of care for Sally, it was beginning to bring me down to a point
where the feelings, initial trauma, and emotions I had initially experienced on
March 30th were coming to the surface yet again. But as that “season” of our life passed and
the foot traffic returned to a manageable level, things became clearer and more
focused. At this point however, around
the time of Chemo #3, another set of realizations hit me without any warning.
These however would be some that I still struggle with even at the time of this
blog entry.
So
I won’t spend too much time on this as I would like to come back to this topic at a
later date. Essentially, the way that we had constructed our lives together
through those first 3199 days were built upon the premise that there were no
known restrictions on food, other consumables, vacation, leisure activities,
everyday activities, shopping, and our work schedules just to mention a
few. Of course there were things that
had occurred that would cause a delay such as Sal having to take an additional
work trip or me not being able to get the time off I desired or what to have
for dinner or what to do between the time we got off of work until we went to
bed or projects that we wanted to achieve for the house. But as I began to think about things deeper
and gain a broader understanding, I was met with the fact that my world, as I
currently knew it, would take a good long while before it would go back to a
place that was familiar.
And
there is a small chance that things will never be the way they were. And maybe that is a good thing. The one thing however that created the some
of the most conflict both internally and externally was the food that we
consumed. And to be more specific, it
was the lack of white flour, white rice, and added sugar in that food. You would think that leaving these three
things behind and making adjustments for the sake of the love of your life
would be easy and could be dropped like a can into a recycling bin, but this is
where the dilemma thickens. I had given
little thought to the products and foods that we had consumed, no matter how
nutritious they were, had at least 1 of those 3 things in them or around them. So for a while I was able to manage without
any concerns but I noticed that after a bit of time my body was not so pleased
that those things were not being consumed.
It affected my mood. It affected
my affect. It distorted my thought
process. And it wasn’t as though there
were a lack of things to consider in my life at this point. And to quote a line from a book I enjoy, “I
felt as though my mask of sanity was beginning to slip”. At that point, Sally and I talked through
some of these things and we were able to have some considerations made towards
that during our main meal of the day and how I would be responsible for
satiating my “urges” via snacks and other food during the other times of the
day. Overall, our diet at home is and
will be largely based on the essential things that Sally needs in order to be
healthy and able to battle her current cancer diagnosis. But things have gotten better, slowly but
surely. This is a learning process for me as well.
So
those were feelings and thoughts for now of the looking back portion of the
blog. Now is the time to look
forward. After Chemo #6, Sal continued
to show signs of improvement and vitality. Her 48 initial hours after chemo,
she appeared to be “good ol’ fish” again, less a little fatigue that she has
been experiencing these last few weeks.
She continues to face the challenges of her previously hectic life with
work commitments, house commitments, the giving of attention to our cat
children that they demand and crave, being pleased with a lazy day, in addition
to all the commitments that she is obligated to complete as part of her ongoing
treatment. As most of you know, when
Sally gets something set in her mind that wants to achieve, there will be
little if anything that gets in her ways towards success. She is determined, focused, goal oriented,
and has been the beneficiary of an immense outpouring of love, encouragement,
support, gifts, prayers, well wishes, good thoughts, and positive vibes that
have come her way.
But
here is where I stop to say of how proud I am of Sal. Whenever, as a caregiver, I feel week and
down trodden, I merely look in the pale blue eyes of Sally and all seems
well. Sal has helped to make me a better
caregiver, a better husband, a better person, a better cat father, a better
man. She has provided me the opportunity
to love her more than I ever thought was possible. She has allowed me a safe and vulnerable
place to expand the depths of perception as to what our lives will be and the
direction that it will move forward. She
has shown me what it is to be determined and hopeful, even in the face of
daunting and arduous odds. She has shown
me how to grab fear by the throat and to subdue it to a point that it is
rational and reasonable.
Moving
forward, I am hopeful. I am happy. I look forward to the countdown of the next 6
chemo treatments. I am excited in
planning our celebration vacation after chemo #12 is done.
Lastly, I will leave you with a series of 3
photos. It was hard to whittle down the which photos to use to only three that have been taken in the last 117 days. The first is a selfie taken by me as Sally
was in the hospital. A side note about
this picture, Sally’s room is over my left shoulder where the building forms a
corner. This picture encapsulates “the looking back” portion of this blog entry. The second picture is one that I snapped is of
us at a dinner while visiting friends in Baltimore just days after Sal’s 2nd
chemo session. The third picture was taken the evening after Sal’s 6th
chemo session. Her calm, composed and determined look, along with Pabst being
ever present symbolizes my determination to “look forward” to all the great
things that are to come.
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