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On
May 19, 2009, my husband died. He was 57. As foreign and inconceivable
as these words still appear to my present consciousness, I have awakened
each morning since to this stark reality with the deepest and near
palpable sense of loss imaginable. I not only loved my husband. I was
also still very much in love with him when he died, which is
what, perhaps, has tipped the scales towards my ultimate acknowledgement
that this profound experience of losing a spouse is nothing akin to a
divorce. After the failure of my first marriage, I had come to the
unfortunate conclusion that divorce was like a death, except the person
from whom you were now divorced was still very much alive. Now, I
realize the falsity of that conclusion as I am humbly and indelibly
struck by the finality of “till death do us part..."
Over the past year or so, I have watched with careful interest the struggles with cancer of the late, former White House press secretary, Tony Snow, "Last Lecture" sensation Randy Pausch, and UK reality-TV celebrity Jade Goody, as well as actors Patrick Swayze and Farrah Fawcett,
and certainly identified closely with different aspects of their
much-publicized scenarios as only one who is “walking the walk” can. To
be sure, I was not the one diagnosed with colorectal cancer that later
metastasized to the liver and to both lungs; it was my husband. But I
had become his fierce and unwavering advocate, determined to remain one
step ahead of his current treatment options and beat this “mistress”
that threatened to consume and snatch him away at will.
And
we were a team. We had been college sweethearts. We had been separated
for 22 years not because of a row or argument but by extenuating
circumstances, without either of us knowing how to make contact
directly. And we had been reunited – by God, we were certain – through
extraordinary circumstances on Christmas Day 2001 when my father died,
and it was only God that we determined would separate us a second time.
And,
make no mistake, my husband fought the good fight. And I was proud of
him, proud of how he conducted himself throughout his journey with
cancer, proud of the very real inspiration he became to everyone with
whom he had contact. Doctors, nurses, fellow patients, our neighborhood
supermarket cashiers and checkout personnel, the neighborhood florist,
fellow church members, siblings, our immediate family, and close friends
can all attest to this. But, perhaps, no one knew better than I did his
private struggles and the depths to which he had to dig spiritually to
remain optimistic and upbeat despite endless rounds of radiation
treatments, surgeries, chemotherapy sessions, alternative interventional
radiology procedures, and holistic remedies. Without a doubt, there
were times I was in awe of his courage and his strength, times when I
knew I would have personally given up were our situations reversed. But I
dared not say or imply such a thing. I was his "air" he would tell me,
and I was not about to let him suffocate.
My husband determined
early on not to allow this disease to define his walk, his legacy, or
the quality of life that he resolved to enjoy with us. Truthfully, it
was not until the last five months of his valiant four and a half-year
battle to remain with us that most people became aware of how seriously
ill my husband truly was. And I was honored and happy to care for him
and attend to the details he no longer could. Needless to say, it broke my heart to watch his rapid physical and mental decline, especially as he became the silent captive of encephalopathy, forgetting how to perform the most basic functions, sometimes not even recognizing or being aware of those he knew and loved so dearly. My Earle was leaving me behind with so many dreams unfulfilled, and I was devastated even as I continued to hold on to the desperate hope for a ‘Lazarus’ moment from God. |
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On August 24, we
would have been married five years. Over the past four and a half years
since my husband’s initial awareness that something was very wrong and
his official diagnosis, we have looked back often to the time we got
married and the vows we took on our wedding day, “…in sickness and in
health…” For one hundred percent sure, neither of us were thinking
cancer. I very much doubt, in fact, that any typical couple getting
married does. Sure, you think the flu…or even a broken something…and
yes, you’re willing to run to the corner store for Kleenex and Tylenol,
and are even willing to make the proverbial chicken soup. No one’s
thinking cancer. Or, something terminal. But, there we were…almost
straight out of the starting gate within a few months of our wedding
vows with the wind sucked out of our sail. Would we still have gone
through with our marriage had we known what was coming down the pike? To
be sure, we have asked that question of ourselves several times over
the past few years and have come to the unmistakable conclusion: Yes, we
would. Has it been an easy road? Unequivocally, no. But, somehow,
perhaps because of our faith, we were able to look past our daily
circumstance and see God’s grace over our entire situation, if only in
bringing my husband full circle and back into my life, which is where he
wanted to spend precious time if these were destined to be his final
days on earth.
All
of which brings me to the unfortunate recognition that not everyone
would have chosen to remain together. In fact, as we journeyed through
each hospital visit and stay, we became aware of the fascination we
provided to several people, from doctors to nurses to patient care
technicians. “We’re so glad to see you two together!” they would say,
which meant what exactly, we used to wonder at first? Simply, they had
seen enough to know that too many couples never make it through such a
journey with illness. And we heard the horror stories of men who bolted
the minute the diagnosis was given and the wife was facing a double
mastectomy, or the women who left for “greener pastures” once the
husband was no longer able to support the household or perform sexually
as before. “Who are these people?” I would ask, if only to assuage any insecurities my husband might have in that regard.
Without
question, I understand the stage of the journey that Farrah Fawcett and
Patrick Swayze are now in, and I pray for a miracle for them. I know
also the torment their respective partners are going through…and my
heart goes out to them. Their journeys have been different with respect
to the nature of their relationships. Patrick has been married to
his longtime sweetheart, Lisa Niemi, for 33 years
while the path for Farrah and Ryan has hardly been a straight one. And
it really makes one wonder, doesn’t it, why, now, after a tumultuous but
long-term 29-year
cohabiting relationship, Farrah is finally saying yes to Ryan’s
marriage proposal? Is it just because she knows she is dying and won’t
have long to put up with his “bossy” ways?
Is it because she has finally seen that commitment has been the
watershed issue of their relationship? Or, is there something more
fundamental to these marriage vows, when taken with our eyes wide open,
which recognizes that marriage is not just about a “piece of paper”? It
is a deeper, spiritual acknowledgment that you are willing to walk the
walk and not just talk the talk in a relationship, and that you are in
it for the long haul, “forsaking all others, for richer for poorer, for
better for worse, in sickness and in health till death do you part”.
Somehow, “let’s live together, baby” doesn’t quite have the same feel ultimately.
Finally,
no divorce could bring the sense of peace I now have that I did
everything possible to remain faithful, supportive, and committed to my
marriage, and to loving my husband in the way he demonstrated so visibly
every day his consuming love and commitment to me. Certainly, I rest
also in the knowledge that my husband and I didn’t part because we could
not reconcile our differences. And I am grateful for the life lessons I
have learned throughout, the insight on and the deep compassion I have
now for the millions of couples struggling with prolonged sickness and
health issues within their marriage. I am a better person for having
walked this walk with my husband, and I would do it again in a heartbeat
because of the man he was. If I go back to our beginnings, I remember
thinking from the outset what a breath of fresh air this man was. And he
proved me right. He knew straight up what he wanted - me - and has
continued to love me unconditionally through the years. Beyond the
shadow of a doubt, I am left with a distinctly vacant feeling of having
lost something extremely valuable, magnified, perhaps, one hundred-fold.
But now, my children have seen a fine example of manhood and fatherhood
and, as women, what they ought to expect and value in a good husband.
That alone is a gift beyond compare. The rest – and our restoration – is
now up to God. And He has our full attention.
Editor's Note: We note sadly that Patrick Swayze passed away on September 14, 2009 after a valiant battle with pancreatic cancer. Farrah Fawcett succumbed to anal cancer on June 25, 2009 after a near three-year battle. We convey our deepest condolences to their respective families.
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RELATED ARTICLE: Coping when a partner has a terminal illness Times Online- UK, August 28, 2008
Confronting a fatal illness in a partner can put intolerable strain on a couple. But society expects saint-like behaviour. . .
RELATED ARTICLE: Taking Their Lives into Their Own Hands Gainesville Sun, By Lauren Levy- Newsies Contributing Writer, April 17, 2009
When
my father was diagnosed with colorectal cancer four years ago, I was
not aware of the journey this would take my family on. . . . . . Throughout
this process, it has become evident that patients, especially when
dealing with multidisciplinary diseases like cancer, need to be
thoroughly proactive when it comes to their health care treatments;
simply relying on the diagnoses of their doctors without doing their own
research can cost them their lives. . .
RELATED ARTICLE: Once-fatal cancers now treated as a chronic disease International Herald Tribune, By Jane E. Brody, June 17, 2008
Fisch
calls the new therapy for advanced cancer "the hitchhiker model." Time
is bought by going from point A, the first-line therapy, to point B, the
second-line therapy, to point C, the third line of therapy, and so on.
The approach can continue indefinitely, as long as new therapies become
available and patients remain well enough to withstand the rigors of
treatment. But Fisch noted that adding meaningful years to the lives of
patients with advanced cancer depends in part on avoiding the attitude,
prevalent among some physicians, that cancer is hopeless after it has
metastasized. . .
RELATED ARTICLE: Fear is a waste of time Townhall.com- Free Republic.com, By Tony Snow, September 16, 2005
Still, the last few months
-- my time of surgery and chemo -- have been the happiest and most
thrilling of my life. They have confirmed lessons that seem
at once too good to be true, and too important and vital not to be.
Here is a short inventory: Faith matters. Prayers heal. Love
overcomes. People want to do good for others; they just need excuses.
Fear is a waste of time. The worst that can happen is that we'll die -- which happens to everybody, anyway. Until the Grim Reaper comes knocking, we're alive. . .
RELATED ARTICLE: A diagnosis of cancer is trying for any marriage Boston Globe, By Judy Foreman, August 22, 2005
Obviously,
when cancer strikes, there's no easy role in any marriage, whether
you're the patient or the spouse. What makes some marriages fall apart
under the strain of cancer and others get stronger? That's a tough one,
but researchers are finding some clues. . .
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