Shelle Edit: Owl is what we call in BlogLand... a lurker. When he comments he does it anonymously and signed Owl. He felt the impression to write this post. I am so glad he did. He may or may not comment back in comments... but please, if so inspired, leave a comment. Thanks.
Three years ago I was a bad ass huntin guy that could nearly do anything and everything. I even went bear hunting in Alberta Canada almost to the arctic circle and bagged a 330 lb black bear with one shot... On the first evening of the hunt.
When I returned to my home in MD, I suddenly discovered I had issues. I had the shakes, like a leaf on a tree... could not focus on work, home, kids or even do the things that were common tasks to me.
I went to my family doctor who immediately said I need to have an MRI. I put that off for a few days because my wife is a very influential employee at the local hospital and said she could set up an appointment where I could just walk in and have the test done instead of waiting 4 hours.
The next day I got a call from wifey, K you need to check into the hospital for tests. The family doctor says you have a serious condition that needs to be evaluated right away.
So I go home, argue about checking in, eventually I give in.
I see a cardiologist that evening and he knows almost immediately what the issue is...
Congestive heart failure.
He starts medication and orders a stress test (which turns out normal) what doesn't turn out normal is an EKG and echocardiogram. I am definitely headed for a heart attack.
I talk out several options with a my cardiologist and an electrophysiologist... how can someone go from being healthy to talking about being an ideal candidate for a heart transplant in such a short period of time? No real answer is given by either doctor, just scenarios!
I have a defibulator implanted in January of the following year. In July of that same year I was doing my favorite thing (water skiing) and the defib goes off... NOT once but six times. I'm nearly in shock... Kids and wife are frantic... and ASK me what I think? I said what do you think? I need to go to the hospital! So I do... come to find out the defib picked up on a rapid heart rate (euphoria). They up the heart rate threshold on the pacer/defib. DUH
So three years later I live with CHF and the fact it may cut my life short... The good news is the meds have been mostly good for me... except the anxiety and depression that go along with the diagnosis and fact I never know when the defib will go off.
How does one deal with the outcome? How do you get past the anxiety and depression?
Who else lives with the same or similar condition?
Help?
OWL
Showing posts with label terminal illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label terminal illness. Show all posts
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I have breast cancer...
Shelle Edit: "This is a blog by a woman in her 50's who is finally on the crooked path to find who she truly is. Married at 19 and divorced at 53. I am going to unearth the artist, the cynic, the free spirit that has been long buried. Or die trying. I've left Bethlehem and I feel free... I've left the girl I was supposed to be and some day I'll be born. ~Paula Cole"--This is how she describes herself on her profile... this was my first time to her blog... it's warned as NSFW (Not Safe For Work) but I guess I didn't scroll down enough to understand why she has that warning. What I know of Nitebyrd is she is incredibly compassionate and kind. She also is passionate about things and how can I not love someone that has this quote at the end of every email, "I want to live my life in such a way that when my feet hit the floor in the morning, Satan shudders and says, "Oh! Shit! She's awake!"
“I have breast cancer.”
My daughter said those words and my heart stopped.
My hope was that 2006 would be better than the previous year. During that year, my husband (now, ex-husband) left a job almost 20 years to start his own business. The business was pouring money out and dribbling money in. I was watching my retirement, my future, circle the drain. It had been a very difficult year. The decision my husband made was against my wishes. There was really no discussion because that’s how things always were. My unhappiness in the marriage increased in direct proportions to how quickly our (his?) money was disappearing. I prayed, begged, threatened, pleaded with “The Powers That Be” to make this New Year be better. They didn't listen.
My daughter said, “I have breast cancer.” In July of 2006, she was 28 years old. She had been married for a little over two years. Neither she nor her husband were working, they were “helping” at my husband’s business. One good thing was she had health insurance through that business. My daughter and son-in-law were living off money they’d made from a sale of their house and a small settlement they’d received from a lawsuit. My daughter and her husband were together 24/7 in a failing business with dwindling funds and now a life threatening illness. Their relationship was in trouble. To add to the drama of all this, I had decided in January of 2006 to cash in my small 401K and take a trip to Australia. I needed something to look forward to and wanted to use MY money for something that was going to give me a lifetime of good memories, not throw it into the money eating hole of my husband’s business. Selfish? Maybe, but it was something I needed to do for myself after 32 years of being a wife, mother, homemaker, office worker and person in charge of everything. My departure date was August 6, the same day my daughter was scheduled for surgery.
Once my heart started beating again, both her father and I broke down. We were totally useless for about 45 minutes weeping and swearing at God and nature in her kitchen. Once we’d pulled ourselves together, my daughter told us she would be having a lumpectomy with some lymph nodes removed to be on the safe side. Her tumor was fairly large but had been encapsulated in an antibody (pus) filled sac. Her MRI and PET scans showed a very clearly defined tumor. Her surgeon was very confident that her cancer had not spread and that the lumpectomy would get it all. Yes, this was heartening but I was still terrified for her. (There is no history of breast or prostate cancer on either side of the family. Apparently 85% of all breast cancers have no family history.) My daughter asked me not to go on my trip to Australia. I had to say no, that I still was going. I was one of the most difficult things I ever had to do.
While I knew that my relationship with her father was beyond repair, I also knew that for my own well-being, I had to go. The stress of the last 15 months had taken their toll on me – mentally and physically. If I did not get some relief, I wouldn’t be good for anyone in the future. My daughter, my son, my son-in-law and yes, even my ex-husband would need the strength I'd show for years after her surgery. I spoke to my daughter, explaining why it was necessary for me to go. I would only be gone three weeks. She understood immediately. This was a great relief to me and surprisingly, her!
My daughter was facing the scariest thing in her life and she was going to do it without the “mommy” buffer. In the family, I was the one that made the decisions, meted out the punishment,kissed the boo-boos, fixed the unfixable, made the phone calls, paid the bills, dealt with the “dirty” decisions, etc. I could always “fix it” But she knew I couldn’t fix this. She realized that there wasn’t much I could do for her other than hold her hand and maybe cook and clean for her after the surgery. She also told me that since she was going to have chemotherapy and radiation, that she’d need me for that. My daughter was only 28 going through a horrible ordeal yet she had the insight and understanding to know why her mother needed to go half-way around the world for a bit. She made me very proud.
My daughter understood, no one else did. Let me tell you that I took a rash of shit from EVERYONE and anyone. However, I would not be dissuaded. At 6:00 AM on August 6, 2006 I, along with her husband, her father, her brother, her mother and father-in-law and her cousin, kissed her and hugged her as she went into surgery. We then all waited until the surgeon came to tell us that her lymph nodes were clear and the tumor had been removed. She was in recovery, goofy from drugs but damn happy for someone just out of surgery, as we kissed good-bye and I left for the airport.
Over the three weeks I was gone, I spoke to my daughter every other day. She was marveling at how her husband was helping her so much. He was changing her drains and keeping her clean. He was doing some cooking. He asked his mother to come and stay with them for a week, which she did. He went through a very difficult patch after I'd come home but the whole experience matured both he and my daughter. My daughter and her husband started planning for the future now that it seemed much more important to do so. She loved hearing about how amazing Australia was. I was home before I knew it.
Although, my leaving for a “vacation” at this very delicate time is still a sore point with my ex-husband and some others, it has never been with my daughter. She has never once said it was wrong for me to leave. I went with her to her chemo appointments, cried with her when she lost her hair, laughed when we went to buy her wigs and have walked in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure every year since her diagnosis. Those three weeks she spent with her husband allowed him to see her at her most vulnerable and I believe they both learned so much about each other that it was a good thing for me not to be there. My daughter has said that in a round-about way. So while it was selfish of me, it was necessary. Her diagnosis also made me realize that life is precious, it need to be enjoyed as do the people you love. I think that by her seeing that I was not just a mother but also a person, she gained valuable insight to herself and to her relationship with her husband. She enjoys her life much more now and so do I.
She has made me promise to stay around when she gets pregnant, though, and I definitely will.
Nitebyrd
P.S. She has also posted HERE.
“I have breast cancer.”
My daughter said those words and my heart stopped.
My hope was that 2006 would be better than the previous year. During that year, my husband (now, ex-husband) left a job almost 20 years to start his own business. The business was pouring money out and dribbling money in. I was watching my retirement, my future, circle the drain. It had been a very difficult year. The decision my husband made was against my wishes. There was really no discussion because that’s how things always were. My unhappiness in the marriage increased in direct proportions to how quickly our (his?) money was disappearing. I prayed, begged, threatened, pleaded with “The Powers That Be” to make this New Year be better. They didn't listen.
My daughter said, “I have breast cancer.” In July of 2006, she was 28 years old. She had been married for a little over two years. Neither she nor her husband were working, they were “helping” at my husband’s business. One good thing was she had health insurance through that business. My daughter and son-in-law were living off money they’d made from a sale of their house and a small settlement they’d received from a lawsuit. My daughter and her husband were together 24/7 in a failing business with dwindling funds and now a life threatening illness. Their relationship was in trouble. To add to the drama of all this, I had decided in January of 2006 to cash in my small 401K and take a trip to Australia. I needed something to look forward to and wanted to use MY money for something that was going to give me a lifetime of good memories, not throw it into the money eating hole of my husband’s business. Selfish? Maybe, but it was something I needed to do for myself after 32 years of being a wife, mother, homemaker, office worker and person in charge of everything. My departure date was August 6, the same day my daughter was scheduled for surgery.
Once my heart started beating again, both her father and I broke down. We were totally useless for about 45 minutes weeping and swearing at God and nature in her kitchen. Once we’d pulled ourselves together, my daughter told us she would be having a lumpectomy with some lymph nodes removed to be on the safe side. Her tumor was fairly large but had been encapsulated in an antibody (pus) filled sac. Her MRI and PET scans showed a very clearly defined tumor. Her surgeon was very confident that her cancer had not spread and that the lumpectomy would get it all. Yes, this was heartening but I was still terrified for her. (There is no history of breast or prostate cancer on either side of the family. Apparently 85% of all breast cancers have no family history.) My daughter asked me not to go on my trip to Australia. I had to say no, that I still was going. I was one of the most difficult things I ever had to do.
While I knew that my relationship with her father was beyond repair, I also knew that for my own well-being, I had to go. The stress of the last 15 months had taken their toll on me – mentally and physically. If I did not get some relief, I wouldn’t be good for anyone in the future. My daughter, my son, my son-in-law and yes, even my ex-husband would need the strength I'd show for years after her surgery. I spoke to my daughter, explaining why it was necessary for me to go. I would only be gone three weeks. She understood immediately. This was a great relief to me and surprisingly, her!
My daughter was facing the scariest thing in her life and she was going to do it without the “mommy” buffer. In the family, I was the one that made the decisions, meted out the punishment,kissed the boo-boos, fixed the unfixable, made the phone calls, paid the bills, dealt with the “dirty” decisions, etc. I could always “fix it” But she knew I couldn’t fix this. She realized that there wasn’t much I could do for her other than hold her hand and maybe cook and clean for her after the surgery. She also told me that since she was going to have chemotherapy and radiation, that she’d need me for that. My daughter was only 28 going through a horrible ordeal yet she had the insight and understanding to know why her mother needed to go half-way around the world for a bit. She made me very proud.
My daughter understood, no one else did. Let me tell you that I took a rash of shit from EVERYONE and anyone. However, I would not be dissuaded. At 6:00 AM on August 6, 2006 I, along with her husband, her father, her brother, her mother and father-in-law and her cousin, kissed her and hugged her as she went into surgery. We then all waited until the surgeon came to tell us that her lymph nodes were clear and the tumor had been removed. She was in recovery, goofy from drugs but damn happy for someone just out of surgery, as we kissed good-bye and I left for the airport.
Over the three weeks I was gone, I spoke to my daughter every other day. She was marveling at how her husband was helping her so much. He was changing her drains and keeping her clean. He was doing some cooking. He asked his mother to come and stay with them for a week, which she did. He went through a very difficult patch after I'd come home but the whole experience matured both he and my daughter. My daughter and her husband started planning for the future now that it seemed much more important to do so. She loved hearing about how amazing Australia was. I was home before I knew it.
Although, my leaving for a “vacation” at this very delicate time is still a sore point with my ex-husband and some others, it has never been with my daughter. She has never once said it was wrong for me to leave. I went with her to her chemo appointments, cried with her when she lost her hair, laughed when we went to buy her wigs and have walked in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure every year since her diagnosis. Those three weeks she spent with her husband allowed him to see her at her most vulnerable and I believe they both learned so much about each other that it was a good thing for me not to be there. My daughter has said that in a round-about way. So while it was selfish of me, it was necessary. Her diagnosis also made me realize that life is precious, it need to be enjoyed as do the people you love. I think that by her seeing that I was not just a mother but also a person, she gained valuable insight to herself and to her relationship with her husband. She enjoys her life much more now and so do I.
She has made me promise to stay around when she gets pregnant, though, and I definitely will.
Nitebyrd
P.S. She has also posted HERE.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
It is NORMALCY I miss the most... living with his terminal illness.
Shelle Edit: I have been reading Lilly's blog for a very long time now. She use to give away baskets of stuff to those that donated to her cause. I was a winner of one of them. But I didn't donate because I could win something, I donated because Lilly and her story became one I felt close to, if that makes any sense. Her blog is updates of her husband sprinkled in with tid bits of her daughters comings and goings. I remember the first time I saw a picture of her with one of her daughters and it was no surprise that she (and her daughter) were absolutely beautiful. She is proof that sometimes someone is SO beautiful inside that it just can't help but show through to her outside and I think her daughters are the same way. I was so happy to have Lilly volunteer to write this post. I had no idea she even read this blog, but I am so happy she is sharing this with us. Lilly is actually on vacation today but she wanted me to post this WHILE she is on vacation with some friends (which she hasn't been able to do because of her situation-so we are really happy for her) because when she is at home she is too busy. She is going to try to reply to comments but I know that she will appreciate any response or comment she gets today. After reading this, make sure to go over and read her personal blog.
R and I have been married for many years. We have 3 beautiful daughters that keep things interesting. It never ceased to amaze me how nonchallently R could walk in a grocery store and pick up 3 different boxes of tampons for 3 different women in his house that couldn't agree on even the simple things like "leak protection vs. baby powder scented vs. dry weave". We always had a normal marriage, both working long hours, focused on climbing that corporate ladder. Of course, days off were spent trying to get caught up on the mountain of laundry that had accumulated, vacuuming, mopping, yardwork, grocery shopping, meal planning....etc. The kinds of things all couples deal with. Normal things. With it came the arguments about whose turn it is it vacuum, cook, fold, iron....again, the normal couple things. Admittedly, I'm a Princess and R ALWAYS ended up doing most of the household chores. My job and my Princess-ship took up a lot of my time!
One Thanksgiving day, R told me he thought he had a bladder infection. What? He had never been sick and I was sure this was a ploy to get out of putting up the Christmas trees. I had that day planned down to the last minute! It turned out that this was no ploy. This "bladder infection" was actually bladder cancer, stage IV by the time he became symptomatic. A death sentence. He spent months in ICU, a wonderful team of doctors pulling out all the stops to keep him alive from day to day. He's still with us, barely hanging onto life on most days, making me laugh on others.
R was always the caregiver. If our girls threw up, they called for Daddy, they knew I couldn't handle it. I would puke right along with them. Cat had a fur-ball, R to the rescue! Skinned knee? Broken bone? Rash? R ALL.THE.WAY! He was always so strong and just had a natural knack for doctoring. I couldn't even take care of myself! I remember cutting my finger slicing tomatoes one day and passed out on the spot. No one I know has such a gentle grace as my R. When he got sick, it was very fast. We had no time to prepare for the changes that were about to take place. Since he became ill, it has been an endless stream of catheters, NG tubes, ostomy bags, JP drains, nausea, and chemo. He has had to come to terms with having to relinquish his care and his privacy over to someone else, and I've had to learn to handle all the caregiving without throwing up! Some days are certainly harder than others, on both of us!
I know all about the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, depression, bargaining and finally, acceptance. I have watched my husband go into, and come out of each stage. He is in the acceptance stage now. He talks to me very matter of factly about hospice, the life insurance policies,the burial plots. He has such peace now. Me? I'm still in the anger stage. I must have stopped retaining anything after that chapter when I read Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' book way back in my college Psychology class. I'm mad at everyone from his workplace where he handled the deadly chemicals that caused this cancer, to the Doctor who botched his original surgery, to the nurse at the Cancer Center that was rude to me one day, to the produce manager at Winn Dixie who was out of fresh Artichokes and everyone KNOWS that green leafy vegetables fight cancer cells, to R for getting to that acceptance stage before me and leaving me boxing with the world. Our roles have definitely switched....
Am I telling you this to get your attention? To show you how trivial your disagreements with your significant others are? HECK NO! In fact, if God would grant us a miracle and heal this wonderful man, the first thing I would say is "Thank you, Lord". The second is "Ummmmm....I believe it's YOUR turn to vacuum!". That's normal, and it's normalcy I miss the most. As much as I would love sleeping curled around my husband, as much as I miss making love with him, and our 2 am runs to Waffle House because I'm craving bacon and pecan waffles, I would LOVE to have a nice argument with him. So much, that earlier this week he made a comment about Don Henley (who he KNOWS I love) and I bopped him on his bald head with a throw pillow from the couch and called him a
GOON! Felt soooooo good!
Love your life....live it to the fullest. Accept that there will be disagreements, I would worry about anyone who didn't have them. And KNOW that one day, you may have to withdraw from that bank of memories to get to the end of that day. So, make them good ones~
LILLY
R and I have been married for many years. We have 3 beautiful daughters that keep things interesting. It never ceased to amaze me how nonchallently R could walk in a grocery store and pick up 3 different boxes of tampons for 3 different women in his house that couldn't agree on even the simple things like "leak protection vs. baby powder scented vs. dry weave". We always had a normal marriage, both working long hours, focused on climbing that corporate ladder. Of course, days off were spent trying to get caught up on the mountain of laundry that had accumulated, vacuuming, mopping, yardwork, grocery shopping, meal planning....etc. The kinds of things all couples deal with. Normal things. With it came the arguments about whose turn it is it vacuum, cook, fold, iron....again, the normal couple things. Admittedly, I'm a Princess and R ALWAYS ended up doing most of the household chores. My job and my Princess-ship took up a lot of my time!
One Thanksgiving day, R told me he thought he had a bladder infection. What? He had never been sick and I was sure this was a ploy to get out of putting up the Christmas trees. I had that day planned down to the last minute! It turned out that this was no ploy. This "bladder infection" was actually bladder cancer, stage IV by the time he became symptomatic. A death sentence. He spent months in ICU, a wonderful team of doctors pulling out all the stops to keep him alive from day to day. He's still with us, barely hanging onto life on most days, making me laugh on others.
R was always the caregiver. If our girls threw up, they called for Daddy, they knew I couldn't handle it. I would puke right along with them. Cat had a fur-ball, R to the rescue! Skinned knee? Broken bone? Rash? R ALL.THE.WAY! He was always so strong and just had a natural knack for doctoring. I couldn't even take care of myself! I remember cutting my finger slicing tomatoes one day and passed out on the spot. No one I know has such a gentle grace as my R. When he got sick, it was very fast. We had no time to prepare for the changes that were about to take place. Since he became ill, it has been an endless stream of catheters, NG tubes, ostomy bags, JP drains, nausea, and chemo. He has had to come to terms with having to relinquish his care and his privacy over to someone else, and I've had to learn to handle all the caregiving without throwing up! Some days are certainly harder than others, on both of us!
I know all about the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, depression, bargaining and finally, acceptance. I have watched my husband go into, and come out of each stage. He is in the acceptance stage now. He talks to me very matter of factly about hospice, the life insurance policies,the burial plots. He has such peace now. Me? I'm still in the anger stage. I must have stopped retaining anything after that chapter when I read Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' book way back in my college Psychology class. I'm mad at everyone from his workplace where he handled the deadly chemicals that caused this cancer, to the Doctor who botched his original surgery, to the nurse at the Cancer Center that was rude to me one day, to the produce manager at Winn Dixie who was out of fresh Artichokes and everyone KNOWS that green leafy vegetables fight cancer cells, to R for getting to that acceptance stage before me and leaving me boxing with the world. Our roles have definitely switched....
Am I telling you this to get your attention? To show you how trivial your disagreements with your significant others are? HECK NO! In fact, if God would grant us a miracle and heal this wonderful man, the first thing I would say is "Thank you, Lord". The second is "Ummmmm....I believe it's YOUR turn to vacuum!". That's normal, and it's normalcy I miss the most. As much as I would love sleeping curled around my husband, as much as I miss making love with him, and our 2 am runs to Waffle House because I'm craving bacon and pecan waffles, I would LOVE to have a nice argument with him. So much, that earlier this week he made a comment about Don Henley (who he KNOWS I love) and I bopped him on his bald head with a throw pillow from the couch and called him a
GOON! Felt soooooo good!
Love your life....live it to the fullest. Accept that there will be disagreements, I would worry about anyone who didn't have them. And KNOW that one day, you may have to withdraw from that bank of memories to get to the end of that day. So, make them good ones~
LILLY
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