Sometimes...
Sometimes, it gets to me. Usually when I’m alone, walking around the pond on the ranch. I reflect on what I’ve worked hard at building for us. And I begin to realize that there may not be an us.
I made sure that she was taken care of if I passed on. Plenty of insurance to pay off everything 3 times over. Monthly survivor benefits that would keep her comfortable.
But what happens if I lose her? Am I building for a future that won’t be here? I’ve worked hard for us. But I’m struck with the notion that I may be wasting my time. And that’s harsh. Harsh for me to think, or accept. So I look for answers.
With the internet at your fingertips, anyone can become an expert on any subject. So it is when you’re faced with a medical issue or disease. You begin to research everything about it. All the treatments, the drugs, the surgeries. You pick up a new vocabulary. Time to Reoccurrence (TTR). You read about the trials, the tests, successes. What you don’t read are the failures. But they are there. You begin to see them, written between the lines. You understand that being cured of cancer is a metric based on how long it takes for it to come back.
You read forums. You read about other’s struggle. You find comfort in seeing that they are being treated with the same procedures and drugs your wife is. And then you see that they were posting this in 2010, but there are no posts for 2015. And you wonder why.
You hang on every word the doctors say. You look for that gleam of hope. You go home and franticly search the internet for more information about this new drug she’s being switched to. You start all over with it. Reading the trials. And understanding exactly what it means when it says TTR is 4 years. 4 years? Then what? What do we do in 4 years?
I sit down on the dock and gaze out over the pond. The bass are feeding on the bugs on the surface. Striking with a small splash that sends ripples across the smooth surface. A top-water jitter bug would tear them up right now. I think back to the spring of this year. Many times I would come home in the late afternoon to find her out here fishing. Arguing with the dogs over space on the narrow dock. She loves to fish. Just simple fishing, with a bobber and a worm. No lures, or rubber worms for her. She’s happy to go after the pan fish. Or a catfish. She gets excited when she catches a wayward bass that was hungry enough for a worm. And she tells me about Brutus, the biggest bass we have in the pond. He taunts us. He laughs at us. She hooked him once. Got him right up to the dock. A mouth so big her whole fist could fit inside it. She said he smiled at her as she reached down for him. And with a sudden explosive twist and a splash, he was gone. Maybe next time babe.
I get up, and wipe the tears from my eyes.
Bruce, I don't really have any words to offer that are adequate, so I'll just send you a hug and my best wishes.
Thank you Sandy.
Bruce, I went through much of the same with my wife of 42 years. Did my best to make sure there was enough insurance to cover all eventualities so she and the kids and grandkids would be taken care of if and when I died. Then fate played a cruel hand in that my wife passed away in December of last year followed by my only son in April of this year. Treasure your spouse and loved ones for you truly never know how long you will have them. I wish you the best.
Revel in all the good times together, and it sounds like you have had a lifetime of them. Have faith in the procedures and process of treatment. Make each and every day together a lifetime of memories to come. Sounds like you are a very lucky man, Bruce. And she is lucky to have you. Fate, faith, and facts deal us strange hands in life. Best wishes and prayers to you and your wife.
I agree with Sandy. Only those who are involved can really understand what it is like and those of us who have experienced similar situations can relate to your family, but the feelings of looking, knowing and remembering can not take the place of being those experiencing at the moment. Praying and doing everything you can to get past this time in your family's life is all you can do. And always remembering and never forgetting whatever comes your way by accepting anything you are unable to control as life is the only thing you can do after knowing you are doing everything you can do.
I hope this is taken the way it is meant. There have been times in my life when no matter what I tried to do, I found it impossible to get past the pains I was experiencing. I found this may not have given me happiness, it gave me understanding and acceptance of the way I should approach my pains in life. I found just reading this often, I found some relief and that was better than succumbing.
Four words I will train myself to say until they become habits so strong that immediately they will appear in my mind whenever good humor threatens to depart from me. These words passed down from the Ancients will carry me through every adversity and maintain my life in balance. These four words are: THIS TOO SHALL PASS. I will laugh at the world. For all worldly things shall indeed pass. When I am heavy with heartache I shall console myself that this too shall pass. When I am puffed with success, I shall warn myself that this too shall pass. Yea verily, where is he who built the pyramid? Is he not buried within the stone? And will the pyramid one day not also be buried under sand? If all things shall pass, why should I be of concern for today? I will laugh at the world. I will paint this day with laughter. I will frame this night in song. Never will I labor to be happy. Rather I will remain too busy to be sad. I will enjoy today's happiness today. It is not grain to be stored in a box. It is not wine to be saved in a jar. It cannot be saved for tomorrow. It must be sown and reaped on the same day and this I will do, henceforth.
It is heart rendering when someone you love so much is going through sickness or a heartache. It tears at one's soul. One sits by helpless not knowing what to say or what to do. So, we just do our best. She has you and that's worth everything to her! Stay steady!
Bruce,
I simply can't imagine the heartache. But when I read your words, I can feel your love for Penny, and it touch the heart. May that love translate to many more years together. Know that there are treatments always on the horizon and your love for her should help her endure.
And I am here if you need me.
I stand with you my friend, being there and doing it.......
My heart goes out to you.........
What a beautiful post.
There's nothing I can really say to help, no advice I should even try to give. It's hard to just shut up and wish you the best. All I can do is wish both of you the best.
NOW HEAR THIS: I'm still here. Well, most of me is. Penny is 10 times more ornery than I am. She will still be giving your silly behind a what-for in 30 years, and you'll still be loving every minute of it. ♥
Bruce, Thank you. I can never seem to imagine the perspective from your point. I see it from another angle and try to help but for some reason I just never think I can do enough to ease the pain and worry of what if...
I feel for you as I see the same sort of pain and hope in another person trying to cope. I wish you the best and the peace of progress from every positive change that people are working so hard to give you and Penny. Keep your head up, cherish the days, add a surprise, send a message without uttering a word. You're doing more than you realize, it's just hard to see sometimes.
I have a flakey heart. I could go at any time.
It makes me worry for my wife.
Hang in there. Your lady needs you.
Sorry to hear. Stay positive I learned two weeks ago that my mother has pancreatic cancer. I never thought she'd pre-decease my dad. Her response, "We should both take a cruise and I will jump off the boat together." I pointed out that it wouldn't work because they were both really good swimmers. I've been through all of the Kübler-Ross stages of grief. Now I have the vision to see that they both lived their lives to the fullest, and lived many years beyond some of their peers. Her mother recited this poem on her hundredth year, a couple of weeks before she passed, "Life owes us nothing. One clear morn is boon enough for being born; and be it ninety years or ten, no need for me to question when. While life is mine I'll find it good, and greet each other with gratitude." Would that we all had the strength and courage of our forebears. Hang in there.