30 days hath September...

And a busy thirty days it has been!
Lots of tests, procedures, doctor visits  and more.  Mostly brought about because my insurance resets on October 1 and I have to climb that steep deductible hill all over again.  So instead I pushed to get as much done before October 1 as possible all with good results, too!  My PET scan came back all clear again - "grossly unremarkable" said the doctor.  Then my blood tests came back all normal.  So my port was successfully removed on the 22nd. Saying I am so happy to have it out is an understatement.  (I am thinking that perhaps when I pass the five year mark, I will get a tattoo over the scar.)  And then finally today I had my one year follow up colonoscopy and it too came back clear!  They want to see me again in three years!
The monitoring/maintenance plan will consist of blood work every three months for four years and a CT scan every six months for the next two years.

I have also cut my hair short with great results.  My post chemo hair is so wavy.  I used to have straight straight (did I mention straight?) hair.  So having all this wave is quite interesting.  Friday night I was told I looked like Katie Couric (which I have heard before) and also Princess Diana which was a new one for me.  Then this morning's nurse also said Princess Diana.  I am very much flattered.

It seems I've been struck by Paco Rabanne's Million again at Café Eau but this time he's an Italian pilot.  Stay tuned, the philosopher's phase 2 could be really really interesting.

Why have I been spared?

In the last 8 days, death has impacted me 5 times. I am so humbled to still be walking this great earth.  I don't know why. My heart breaks for all the families. I don't understand why this is happening, but am continually being transformed by it. My life will never ever be the same. Sigh.

Good for another six months

PET scan results say there is no evidence of disease.  Sigh of relief.  I've made it through six months; 4 years and 6 months to go.

My goal this next six months is to write about other things than cancer... maybe I'll write about sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Or maybe just sex.  ;-)

Anyway here's to having some more fun and for getting a little breathing room!

Cheers.

A fortnight of emotions

What a fortnight this has been!

I had a wonderful visit with my mother and her companion (#teamgary) in Florida.  Four days of bliss at the beach watching the waves slow dance with the shore, lounging by the swimming pool, attending a University of Florida football game and sipping rumchata nightly.  It was my first trip to Florida without children in nine years.  It was soul restoring.  It was long overdue.

Initially I started this blog posting out of a need to get on paper all that has happened in the last two weeks.  I started writing but it felt too juvenile.  So I started editing it, then it felt too restricted and self-censored.  I was staring at the screen frustrated at the problems I was having at writing this post.  So I walked away and did other things still mulling about which approach would be best, what words should I use and more.  And I realized that my frustration was self-induced.  No matter what I write or how I write it, I will always think it could have been better.  And that self-criticism and self-judgment was impeding my writing today.  So I said to just fuck it, write it - whether it rambles, is in bullet points, whatever just get it out.

So here goes.....

I wish I had a river to float away on... (just something I wrote today)

Never in the farthest reaches of my mind did I think I would be burying my wife before we would have spent years graying and losing our hair, getting fat and having our joints ache and creak at every move.  No I never thought that our time would be cut short.  Never thought I would be a widower at 48.  Never thought I would be this intimately connected to grief. No I thought we were going to be together forever.  But forever would have been too short too. 

Oh my sweet;

Oh my heart.

The first time I saw her, she was singing.  I had finished with some court business and needed a drink.  I didn’t know it was karaoke night.  I had just about walked out when I heard her sing.  It was hauntingly beautiful; it cut straight to my core and shook it, violently.  Her voice upturned my whole world.  I walked mesmerized to the bar and never took my eyes off her.   Nor did I take my eyes off her our whole time together.  Even when I slept, it was her face, her smile, her laugh in my dreams.  But the real thrill was opening my eyes to see her lying next to me, my dream come true. How am I supposed to manage now only seeing her in my dreams?

I couldn’t believe my luck.  Here, the most beautiful woman in the world let me in hers.  She let me love her; she let me make her laugh; she let me wipe her tears and caress her hair and hold her close.  She let me kiss her; she let me make love to her.  She let me listen to her sing. She let me love beyond what I thought was humanly possible.  And we were happy, so happy.

When she was diagnosed with cancer, she looked even more beautiful to me.  We approached the news with heavy hearts and minds.  The doctors said it was a complicated case.  We tried everything conventional and everything alternative.  We flew across the country seeing specialists, getting IV therapies, seeking second, third, fourth opinions.  Many sleepless nights I scoured the internet for any news, any hope that we would be able to cure this horrible disease.   She was my world, the reason the sky was so blue and the stars twinkled at night.

I felt helpless as she took the treatments and I watched her body, at first, rally and fight the cancer.  But  the days extended to months and once we passed the projected one-year mark, we both knew that her body wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer. 

I remember when she told me she was done fighting:

With tears spilling from her eyes, she said she didn’t want to do any more treatments.  She was tired and couldn’t bear to deal with any more medicine or the side effects.  She said that she wanted to use whatever energy she had to hold my hand and lay in my arms.  She said she wanted what days we had left to be about us and not about doctors and cancer.  She said “I’m absolutely and totally devastated and gutted that I won’t be around longer.  But I’m done being sick and I’m done being angry.  I just want to be surrounded in your love.  Will you do that for me?”  I grabbed her and pulled her to me, my tears never enough to relieve the sadness inside.  “yes, yes” I whispered to her.  And we just stood there, holding each other.  I felt if I held on to her, no one, and especially not cancer, could take her from me.  So I stood as tall and strong as I could and let her pour her heart and soul into mine.  I would carry all that she needed.  I would be her protector.

After she made the decision to end treatment, her body had a slight rebounding.  I naively hoped that it was a sign that she was getting better and wasn’t actually dying.  But about a month later, it was rudely evident, like a serrated-knife cutting skin rude!  Looking back, I’m glad we had that month.  We did as much on her bucket list as possible.  She asked me one morning to take her out again on the bike.  She said she was feeling strong enough to hold on and wanted to enjoy the sensation of the speed, the wind and the vibration of the bike again.  I’m telling you, I took us on the longest, most beautiful ride ever.  I tried to look at the scenery from her perspective and I think God made the colors that much more vibrant, and gave the wind a touch of cool.  I could feel her smiling behind me and every so often, she would just give me a little squeeze.  I whispered back, I love you too.

I hate this.  I hate remembering!  I don’t want this to be past tense.  I want her here.  I want to be touching her and holding her.  I want to be kissing her again.  I want to see her walk through the front door.  I want to listen to her sing again.  I don’t want to be talking and thinking about the last time we did this or we did that.  I want to wake up from this horrible dream and see her smiling face lying beside me.

When we made love, time stood still for us.  Even on those instances (they were RARE instances) when I came too quickly, time still stopped for us.  Our lovemaking was beyond instinctual; it was as if our two bodies were made exactly for each other.  Everything fit so well from our brains to our souls to our body parts.  I would say that when we made love, it impacted the universe but I might just be overcompensating for the fact that she is gone.  But I do know that it changed me, every single time.

The last time we made love, she initiated. 

She said “please honey.  Would you make love to me? “

I stammered “won’t it hurt?  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t think so.  Take it easy and slow, sweetie.  Please.”

“okay.” I hesitated. “ I’m scared though.  I might break you.”

“Then dammit, fix things so you won’t break me.  Christ, I just want to get laid!  Did you forget that I have cancer and I’m dying!?”

I looked at her shocked.  I stammered over my words, “I, sorry, I , oh, uh, gawd, give me a minute. I’ll be right back”.

I left the room so I could get my shit together. 

Bear with me, the  memories are just...

After a few deep breaths, I returned to our bedroom.  She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to the door.  Her shoulders were drooped and I could tell she was crying.  She said “I’m sorry, dear.  I’m just scared.  I wish I weren’t dying,“ she paused to catch her breath between sobs, “I only wanted you to make love to me so I could feel you inside once more.  To have time stop for us.””   She turned to look at me.  Her eyes were swollen from the tears. Her body was so much thinner than I remembered.  Her remaining hair was doing a poor job of hiding her skull.  The scars from her surgeries, the stretch marks from childbirth and that spot by her heart where the chemotherapy port used to be, glistened and shimmered in the light from the windows. 

“God you’re beautiful.” I said and walked over to her.  I took my time with her.  I touched every inch of her body making a mental map. I held her close and made love to her to last for an eternity.  She cried when I entered her.  I thought I was hurting her.  I asked her if I should stop and she said “no, please don’t ever stop loving me.  Don’t ever stop.”  I replied back that I loved her more than I could ever show.

Afterwards in our bed, cuddling and talking, she took my hand and weaved her fingers in and out of mine.  She looked up at me and said, “Darling, I keep thinking I need to tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am that I got cancer.  I keep thinking that I need you to know how thankful I am to have been your friend, lover, wife and that if I could change things, I would stay alive forever to be with you.”

I tried to shush her but she continued.  “please know all these things.  Please know that for everything I have said, there is so much I didn’t know how to say; that my love for you goes deeper than the words available to describe it.”  She wiped her tears.  “And that there would never have been enough time.  But I thank you for everything.  Everything.”  She sobbed through those last words.  I can still hear her say it.  I can still feel her chest heave with the tears and the breaths.  I can still feel her body fall into a slumber while I held her.  And I can still feel the sting of my tears.

She didn’t last much longer. 

She was surrounded by her family, her children, a few close friends and me.  I was sitting beside her cradling her in my arms, her children touching & holding her as well.  The morphine eased her pain.  I told her it was okay to go.  That I loved her and I always would.  And with her eyes closed & using all the strength she had left, she squeezed her kids’ hands, took three breaths and stopped.

And she was gone.

Just like that.