Trying to put myself together, I made my way home that beautiful day. I went from being in such a wonderful place in my life finally, to the lowest that I could ever imagine. All in the matter of a few minutes. AGAIN. Sorry, I know that you can’t tell as you read this but I have paused writing for about ten minutes as I am getting a bit emotional. This is a tough one. If you have or had cancer and gone through the tremendous emotional and physical trials and tribulations of being diagnosed and treated into remission, it is exhausting. “Remission” is such a beautiful word though. “Relapse” not so much.
Very soon I would be breaking the news again to my family. They had been through so much already. Nick was getting to be a big boy and Joe was coming up on his third birthday and fiesty as ever. They wouldn’t understand yet the seriousness of the situation. Everyone else would. Lor reminded me before writing this excerpt, she never forgets anything, about what transpired that day after Dr. Dave broke the news to me. I was in another world and it was a blur. I had to pick her at work and head out to attend a funeral. A sad enough day. Our family was going through a happy time too. My sister Donna and her husband Dave just welcomed their first child Zachary into the world. When I picked Lori up at work, I was in a bad state, she said. I told her what Dr. Dave said and then I broke down. She was so tough. Keeping it together for me. Probably in shock too though. She graduated from having a husband diagnosed with Leukemia three years earlier, a two year old, pregnant and only thirty two years old… to a thirty-five year old with a five year old, a two year old and a husband with Leukemia…again. I was facing the prospect of death for the second time and Lori the prospect of being a young widow with children for the second time. If you get my drift here, the second time just sucks all over again. But worse.
We would wait until the next day to tell my family. The night was somber enough. We wouldn’t say anything to the boys of course, they were just too young to understand. I don’t remember the rides back and forth from the funeral , I’m sure that they were pretty intense. Arriving home, the boys were in bed, our sitter Karen left and I went to each of their rooms to watch them sleep. I told them how sorry I was. How I would fight so hard again. The thought of not being there for them again…was inconceivable. The next morning I called my parents and broke the news. As you can expect, it was devastating to them… Again. And my siblings. And my in -laws. Again.
There would be new treatments, more bone marrow aspirations, more medications, more weekly visits to the hospital, more pain, anxiety, missed work and at this point, no clue about what my future would hold. This was some serious shit… again.
Next up: Charting the Course