An hour later we
were sitting in the intake area of the local Emergency Room giving the required
information and being reminded that service was on a ‘as needed basis’. Vitals
were taken, short version of her medical history given and off to the waiting
area we went. We sat, idly talking about whatever and eventually she was
called. We were shown to a room and some time later a doctor came, did
what doctors do and said she was going to order some tests. I don’t
remember what they all were, and it really doesn’t matter, because after about
another hour she returned and closed the door. She said the test had
revealed that there was something going on with Donna’s liver and she wanted
Donna to schedule an appointment with her primary as soon as possible. At
this point I turned to the doctor and asked what was really going on, well of course she couldn’t be certain
without further testing, but it appeared to be lesions on her colon and something
about the liver being affected, and that although further testing was
necessary, she thought this was the cause of the shoulder pain; bottom line, it
looked serious. The doctor asked if we would like the chaplain sent in, I
said yes, and she left. We sat there stunned beyond words…this was just a
shoulder pain, right, a strain, a pull, we could not comprehend what we had
just been told. After a few moments the door opened and the chaplain came
in…I don’t remember what he said, between Donna and me quietly crying and the
flood of thoughts that rushed my mind, I was numb.
Later, as we drove
home, each of us quiet in our own personal terror, my mind raced; what would
happen? What in the hell do we do now? Of course more tests were
run by her primary and confirmed what the ER doctor had suspected; cancer of
the colon which had spread to the liver. Specialists were suggested and their
prognosis digested by us; 2-6 yrs as optimistic. And so treatment begun,
Chemo. With all of this occurring during that year's holiday season, Donna
wanted to wait until after those those days were over to tell the family.
After the holidays, the immediate family was brought together and
told of the situation; I remember how our youngest daughter leapt from her
chair and screamed inconsolably, ‘it’s not fair! It’s not fair…it’s just not
fair…’ how our oldest daughter looked at Donna with horror and rushed to her
side…how her mother sat, stunned, with eyes welling with tears. There
were the other reactions from other familly members, but I choose not to visit
that now. From that time and over the next four years Donna, I and
the entire family lived in what I now call ‘veiled terror’. I came to
understand better the meaning of the sword of Damocles. For the most
part, we were able to do most of the things we wanted to; family gatherings,
trips, outdoor bar-b-ques, and of course the everyday living. All these things
being planned and organized around Donna's treatments. But behind it all
reigned the ‘silent terror’, that invisible aura of doom. There was very
little talk about the eventual end among the various family members. It
is amazing what the human mind can do when necessary; we were able to, at least
on the surface, act as if we did not have a care in the world, but each of us
knowing that the clock was silently ticking and that our days for such, even
everyday acts were numbered.
And to
think, that Sunday morning started out as so many others. I will not say that
the intervening years went by any quicker or slower than any others, time did
what it always does and no doubt what we all also will do someday too, it
passed. During that time we had some great adventures and created some
very special memories, all told, we were blessed despite everything that was going
on. Donna and I had many talks about our fears and hopes; we talked about
our lives together and reinforced our accomplishments to each other and our
family. We spoke of the many great times we had enjoyed and about how a
lot of our disappointments had probably made us stronger. It, like now
was a somewhat strange time. Of course there were the almost obligatory
"...now you find someone else to be with, Bay...." from her and my
similarly necessary "Baby, how can I do that when I’ve had the best?"
response. I’m sure we both meant those things when we said them, we just
didn’t want them to have to be necessary at all. It brings me to tears to
think about it even now. Those are the types of moments I don’t expect
anyone else to understand or for me to experience again any time soon; that
type of simple sincere honesty between two people who have shared a
lifetime. We required no outside validation, we really knew who we were
in our relationship, and understood what we were about to lose. We both
agreed, the thought of losing it was so incomprehensible to us, that no amount
of time or preparation could be sufficient. I am often asked was it harder,
knowing for those four years, or would it have been easier if it was all of a
sudden. I don’t take offense to the question because I think it is a
reasonable one; but I’m sure my answer of “I just don’t know…”, does not please
many of those who ask it. So be it, it’s simply the truth.
We continued to
have our Buck-F—k—g-Naked Sundays, and truly relished each and every one of
them with even more intesity. We carried on to laugh, lie, argue and
hope, we continued to live despite the terrible events of that Sunday which
seems like such a long time ago now, because as human beings that’s what we are
here to do, live…and at some point, to die; Donna had said she did not want to
be treated like an invalid and I did my best to oblige her. Once during a
heated discussion we were having, she snapped at me, "...well maybe I will
just move out..", I turned to her and with that special sarcasm reserved
for our spouses and asked, "Want me to help you pack?" Of
course I ducked and the shoe bounced harmlessly off the door; as I say we
really knew each other. As I review all the events that have brought me
to this point, I remember the courage she displayed, even with all the fear and
uncertainty in our lives. There are times these days when I could use a
bit of that courage, a bit of that optimism and I draw on the memories of her
to supply much of it. For us it is a truly sad sequence of events, but
now I am determined not to allow it to become an unhappy chapter which rules my
life. I am hoping for more Sundays, more trips, more gatherings, more of
it all, it’s called life and we who are left, have to live it.
Having been
where most of us have, we may well be advised to live it or lose it to the
unpredictability of fate. Tho sad, I am not totally unhappy, I cannot be
because I have been blessed with one of the greatest lessons of life, to learn
that not only can we survive, but that we can thrive; I try to go forward with
the hope that we all can achieve anything, that hope does not die with our
partners, that in fact, the natural consequence of what has happened should
actually empower me. We know the joy of a great relationship, we
understand a lot better than most, the real rewards of true intimacy and the
satisfaction of unconditional affection.
___________________________________________________________________
“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my
heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -e.e.cummings
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