Cancer Ever After

Musings on Infertility, Adoption, Parenthood and Cancer

The knock

Disbelief then numb

Hearing words that don’t make sense

suicide      gunshot     somewhere he knew he would be found

Was he depressed?   Is there someone you can call?

Every conversation, every argument, every word dissected.

My world turned upside down.  Love that I knew, believed in, was a lie.

How did we not see?

headaches  tremors  dizziness  irritability noise sensitivity night sweats

 

“It’s Parkinson’s.”

“No, It might be cancer.”

“Reflux”

“It’s just a balance issue.”

Where did we go wrong?

Every conversation we’ve had is now rewritten.

Angry last words that can’t be taken back. You left without saying goodbye.

I should have called.

Would you have answered?

ammo ammunition bullet chrome

Photo by Ivandrei Pretorius on Pexels.com

 

 

 

Advertisements
Leave a comment »

The hardest thing I’ll ever do.

As a child, the hardest thing I ever had to do was:

… get on the school bus with a complete stranger
… speak in public for the first time
… hear the word divorce
… say goodbye to my best friends

As an adult, hardest thing I ever had to do was:

… hear there was no heartbeat
…allow myself to be stuck with needle after needle
…go to the hospital and leave without our baby girls
…bleed for months on end, laying it that bed, praying our babies would make it
…rock two colicky newborns all night long
…walk into that hospital not knowing if I’d leave with a son
…say I had Cancer out loud
…hold out my arm for that first IV.

No.

Now I see those weren’t really that hard at all because you were by my side, doing whatever was needed, being my shoulder to cry on. It turns out the hardest thing I will ever have to do is:

…get out of bed and face the day without you by my side
…walk into the kitchen to cook breakfast, when you should be standing there
…go to bed alone, never again to cuddle up against your side

No.

The hardest thing I’ll ever have to do is:

…to explain to our children why you aren’t here
…to make sense of what you’ve done
…to understand why you didn’t fight to be at our side.

No.

By far, the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do

….is to forgive you.

I love you.

woman in black long sleeved cardigan

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Leave a comment »

Gone

A single snowflake falls.

The mighty oak doesn’t even feel it’s weight.

Winter brings more rain, more ice, more snow.

The smaller trees begin to break under the weight of the snow.

The mighty oak continues to stand proud as trees around it buckle.

The next ice storm downs a medium size tree, who helplessly falls under the weight of the ice in it’s branches.

The mighty oak continues to stands tall in the promise of spring. But even for the mighty oak, the winter has taken it’s toll. The ravages of the rain, the snow and the ice are there, but unseen.

A single snowflake falls.

The mighty oak falls too.

2 Comments »

Obituary

This blog has been an outlet during some of the hardest times.  Times just got harder.

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/olathe-ks/timothy-henderleiter-8148749

1 Comment »

It Was the Best of Times. It Was the Worst of Times

From everything I’ve read and from talking to other Cancer patients, the second round of chemo is typically worse.  For some of the meds, it’s more of a cumulative effect and you might not feel them until the second round.

Because of this, my mom had offered to take the kids after my second treatment.   With Tim having bronchitis and me having chemo, we both thought this was for the best, but DAMN it was hard.

Turns out, Chemo #2 was both better and worse.  They adjusted my anti-naseau meds, so that part was a lot better.  But we still had my lovely constipation issues which have more of a cumulative effect.

See that lovely pregnant-looking belly? No I’m not pregnant, that’s what the side-effectsof chemo can make your belly look like.  It’s as uncomfortable as it looks.

image

 

So while, I was glad the the med changes helped with how I felt overall after chemo, I must say, some problems were rather, well,  large.

It was hard without the kiddos.  I didn’t realize how much they distract me from how I feel and how I manage to force myself to do more when they are around. And my mom had them for a week, which feels like forever when you are throwing a pity party of one.

While I missed them greatly, I had a really happy/sad moment when we tried to FaceTime them.  The girls were having so much fun, they couldn’t be bothered to talk to us, and Baby H started crying when he saw our faces.  Needless to say, it was a very long week because we didn’t try that again.  I had to resort to picture updates.

Cancer is teaching me a lot about letting go and letting others do things for me.  Prior to this, we’ve spent very few evenings or nights away from the kids.  We both work and it feels like we already get so little time with them. But we are a man down in our house and we need the break.  This is stressful for us in a thousand little ways, and I just get so tired.

I can only  play “Let’s put mommy to bed” as a game with the kids so many times. They want to run and play.  Even Baby H is walking now, they are constantly on the move, and when I’m tired I have trouble keeping up.  It’s not fair to choose only sedentary activities.

So despite wanting to spend all of my time with them, I have to let go, at least a little.  This helps me make my time with them the very best time.  I can be rested so that we can do fun stuff together. And that’s what counts.

 

1 Comment »