Anniversaries .....

Today marks the three year anniversary of my late husband's diagnosis. We had gone to the hospital the night before as he was not able to breathe. We came in with a dangerously low oxygen level, then down to x-ray. Within a half hour, they were wheeling him down for a CAT scan, our family doctor came in on his day off accompanied with pulmonary doctors. It all happened so fast, a frantic pace. They informed us there was something huge on the x-ray and CAT scan. Around 1:am three oncologists came into the room after we were settled. 

I remembered thinking, "don't they ever sleep?" I was naive in my thinking as the facts were not spelled out just yet, and the biopsy scheduled for the morning. I was told it would be closer to lunch, and at 8:am I arrived to find them wheeling him off. Dr. Burns would be doing the biopsy. I asked him if it was cancer, and he replied.."What I saw on that CAT scan frightened even me. Yes, it is cancer...but what type we will need to find out." 

As I sat in the family waiting room...my oldest son frantically texting me for information, I felt cold. I was  there waiting around two hours....and then Dr. Burns came in, grabbed a box of kleenex off the reception desk and asked me to follow him to a private room. That's when I knew...that's when the battle began. It was large cell stage 4, our only hope was to buy time.

I remember having to tell the boys, I don't recall if I told them everything. He was given 3 months. I flat out told the doctors, well... warned them actually to not hold back anything from me. Stan did not care to know the particulars, and that is how he dealt with it all. I on the other hand wanted to know what we were up against, and how to maneuver through it. On that day I became an advocate for a dying individual. That's a mighty big role to fill, and one I was pushed into. One never knows how strong you are, until you have no other choice.

Our battle lasted 18 months. He had a will like none had ever seen, and until he was ready did he go. I will never forget the support from my Facebook friends, family, close friends through it all. Was astounding the support we received. I remember going into hospice house early one Sunday morning to find my friend Ann holding his hand. He looked at me and said, "Ann's here, and she's holding my hand." The cancer had gone into his brain, and he was childlike in many ways. He was so sweet, and kept his humor til the end. The nurses loved him so, one in particular named Cheryl. He chose to die on Cheryl's shift, with Tim another nurse. 

Cheryl had sent me home to get some sleep, it was Thanksgiving and Jason my oldest had cooked dinner that evening. I checked in at 9:30 pm, and he was unconscious. She told me to rest and she would call with any change. I was drifting into a deep sleep when my phone rang. It was Cheryl, and I was to come immediately. 

I fumbled for my phone while driving, and for the life of me I swear it was not in my purse. I dumped my purse out on the seat and I know it was not there. As I look back now, that was no mistake because when it was all over, and I sat next to his dead body, I looked down and there it was in plain sight on top of all of my junk in the purse. He hadn't wanted me to call the kids, this was our time alone.

Stan had one foot on either side for a couple of days. He was visiting with his loved ones that had passed on. Eyes closed, he shared their conversations and allowed me to speak to them through him. The Hospice House was a magical place I was told by one of the doctors, and indeed it was. 

Cheryl and Tim stayed with me as I requested. I rubbed his arm, stroked his hair and told him to go into the light. I was given holy water blessed by a bishop that I had been giving him on a sponge as he could no longer swallow. Cheryl then called the kids....we knew it would be a matter of minutes. She asked Tim to get her stethoscope....his heart had stopped, but he kept breathing. Then it all stopped. It was finally over.

I called my youngest, and the first thing out of his mouth was, "is it over?" Jason and his wife Tess came in just after he had passed. I told them, "he's gone." It didn't register with them, and I had to repeat. 

We sat with his body for three hours, and by 4:am we had to allow them to get him ready to be picked up by the funeral home. The lights flickered once or twice before we left....which Stan said he would do. We knew he was okay, and had made it. 

Tess followed me home, I made coffee, as Jason was to pick me up to go make arrangements at 9:am. Stan didn't want a funeral, but we did a wonderful memorial service which was standing room only. Friends, co-workers, bosses all spoke so eloquently to all of us. He was so very respected and loved. One of my dearest friends made Stan's urn, not knowing just one year later he would also pass. 

Writing about this is cathartic....just an anniversary that had crept up on me. Looking back, I do not see how we got through it. Just know your life can change forever in just one day. Don't take those you love for granted.....rejoice in each and every day. Tell them you love them, and embrace every moment.