A tough year
[Posted by Malawry's husband, E]
Wow, what a year. A little over a year ago, when we'd just gotten home from a lengthy Florida vacation, and were about to skip town for another trip to see family in New England, Malawry turned to me and said those fateful words...
"I found a lump in my breast."
Now she's cancer-free, and we're right now at the Marriott World Center in Orlando. I feel like it's a good time for me to write up some things about the past year, and let those of you who are also my friends know what has been going on in my life.
It is a terrible fear of mine to lose her. I love Malawry so deeply and passionately. She is my soul's completion, and mother to my wonderful, adorable child. The idea of losing her, and being left as a single father, was horrifying to me. I felt completely unequal to the task. Malawry and I have an agreement: Only one of us is allowed to go off the deep end at once. Unfortunately, for a month or two, we were both pretty much non-functional.
At first, I was OK. Not great, but OK. I kept being optimistic at every stage about what could happen. The problem was is that, for SEVEN STRAIGHT doctor's appointments, when there could have been good news or bad news, the news was bad. Each appointment sent me further and further into depression, until the final straw when we found out that the cancer had spread to two of Malawry's lymph nodes. Suddenly, the prospect of losing her became very, very REAL.
School hadn't started yet, so I had nothing to distract me from my depression, besides Colin. (And for the first time, and only time, I felt like a bad father.) And I was beyond depressed: I was destroyed. I literally could not stop crying. When I finally went into the doctor's office at the beginning of August, I had been crying for SIX HOURS straight, non-stop. I begged for something to get my head back on straight, because I wasn't doing Malawry or Colin any good. So for the first time in my life, I went on anti-depressants. Lexapro.
Lexapro did its job. It stopped me from crying. I literally did not cry again for the next year, until May 2008, a few weeks after going off the medication (hopefully for good). Lexapro allowed me to function, but it had the terrible side effect of shutting off all of my emotions. Love, fear, happiness, sadness, they were all dialed down to about 10% of normal. That was hard for me to deal with, but I doubt I could have made it through the year without some chemical assistance.
Chemo was hard. Not as hard for me as for Malawry, of course, but it was very difficult for me to see her waste away like that. I was so glad Colin was too young to know what was going on.
Things started improving at the beginning of December, when we got the first report, and then the confirmation from the biopsy, that all the cancer was gone. My boss asked me if it felt like the weight of the world was off my shoulders, but it really wasn't. It was more like a slow, gradual unwinding of tension that had taken months to build up. It wasn't until school was over and I was off the Lexapro that I really felt back to my normal self.
Now, things are basically back to normal. Malawry's had her surgery and radiation; the only thing left is the final reconstruction of her breasts. And we're away on vacation for the first time in over a year, thank God. It's giving all three of us some real time to re-connect as a family, time we all need badly.
Negative things from the last year:
* The one thing that's still hard for me at times is the fact that we won't be having any more children. I always pictured us with two kids, but now that's not possible. Some days I'm OK with it; other days I'm not. I feel very, very fortunate, however, that we were able to have one wonderful child beforehand.
* I'm sorry to my friends, and to my students, for the last year. I wasn't a very good friend, nor was I a very good teacher. I was too pre-occupied, too self-obsessed, too short-tempered, and I knew it but felt powerless to change it. I promise to make up for it this next year.
* Discovering that there really was a huge difference in quality of care depending on where you lived. If we had gone to hospitals in the WV panhandle where we lived, I doubt seriously that Malawry would be cured. That's scary.
* Finding out that reaching the $1,000,000 lifetime benefit cap on a health insurance policy is actually a real possibility.
Positive things from the last year:
* Having such wonderful friends, who really were there when I needed them.
* Knowing that Colin will never remember this year.
* Having a fantastic oncologist who knew just what to do. She's a bull-headed woman who cuts through red tape, and I thank God that she was on our side.
* Having my mother and Malawry's mother here for so much time during Malawry's chemo took so much of the burden off our shoulders. They are wonderful women.
* Colin took to daycare/school like a champ, and now doesn't want to leave it. We never wanted to keep him in there, but Shepherdstown Day Care is fantastic, and Colin LOVES it there. Now we can't imagine taking him out.
I sat down with the goal of writing a profound, meaningful account of the last year. Reading over what I've written, I think instead it's disjointed, navel-gazing mush. But I don't think I'm going to edit or change it, because that's what the last year was for me. Disjointed and navel-gazing. What greater truth could I possibly post?
Thank you to everyone for your well-wishes, thoughts, and prayers. They were all greatly, tremendously appreciated. I don't think we could have gotten through it without the help and support of so many of you. I have trouble getting close to people; this experience has led me to realize just what good friends we really have.
They just sent the fireworks out over the Magic Kingdom, which we watched from our balcony.
It's going to be a good year.
Wow, what a year. A little over a year ago, when we'd just gotten home from a lengthy Florida vacation, and were about to skip town for another trip to see family in New England, Malawry turned to me and said those fateful words...
"I found a lump in my breast."
Now she's cancer-free, and we're right now at the Marriott World Center in Orlando. I feel like it's a good time for me to write up some things about the past year, and let those of you who are also my friends know what has been going on in my life.
It is a terrible fear of mine to lose her. I love Malawry so deeply and passionately. She is my soul's completion, and mother to my wonderful, adorable child. The idea of losing her, and being left as a single father, was horrifying to me. I felt completely unequal to the task. Malawry and I have an agreement: Only one of us is allowed to go off the deep end at once. Unfortunately, for a month or two, we were both pretty much non-functional.
At first, I was OK. Not great, but OK. I kept being optimistic at every stage about what could happen. The problem was is that, for SEVEN STRAIGHT doctor's appointments, when there could have been good news or bad news, the news was bad. Each appointment sent me further and further into depression, until the final straw when we found out that the cancer had spread to two of Malawry's lymph nodes. Suddenly, the prospect of losing her became very, very REAL.
School hadn't started yet, so I had nothing to distract me from my depression, besides Colin. (And for the first time, and only time, I felt like a bad father.) And I was beyond depressed: I was destroyed. I literally could not stop crying. When I finally went into the doctor's office at the beginning of August, I had been crying for SIX HOURS straight, non-stop. I begged for something to get my head back on straight, because I wasn't doing Malawry or Colin any good. So for the first time in my life, I went on anti-depressants. Lexapro.
Lexapro did its job. It stopped me from crying. I literally did not cry again for the next year, until May 2008, a few weeks after going off the medication (hopefully for good). Lexapro allowed me to function, but it had the terrible side effect of shutting off all of my emotions. Love, fear, happiness, sadness, they were all dialed down to about 10% of normal. That was hard for me to deal with, but I doubt I could have made it through the year without some chemical assistance.
Chemo was hard. Not as hard for me as for Malawry, of course, but it was very difficult for me to see her waste away like that. I was so glad Colin was too young to know what was going on.
Things started improving at the beginning of December, when we got the first report, and then the confirmation from the biopsy, that all the cancer was gone. My boss asked me if it felt like the weight of the world was off my shoulders, but it really wasn't. It was more like a slow, gradual unwinding of tension that had taken months to build up. It wasn't until school was over and I was off the Lexapro that I really felt back to my normal self.
Now, things are basically back to normal. Malawry's had her surgery and radiation; the only thing left is the final reconstruction of her breasts. And we're away on vacation for the first time in over a year, thank God. It's giving all three of us some real time to re-connect as a family, time we all need badly.
Negative things from the last year:
* The one thing that's still hard for me at times is the fact that we won't be having any more children. I always pictured us with two kids, but now that's not possible. Some days I'm OK with it; other days I'm not. I feel very, very fortunate, however, that we were able to have one wonderful child beforehand.
* I'm sorry to my friends, and to my students, for the last year. I wasn't a very good friend, nor was I a very good teacher. I was too pre-occupied, too self-obsessed, too short-tempered, and I knew it but felt powerless to change it. I promise to make up for it this next year.
* Discovering that there really was a huge difference in quality of care depending on where you lived. If we had gone to hospitals in the WV panhandle where we lived, I doubt seriously that Malawry would be cured. That's scary.
* Finding out that reaching the $1,000,000 lifetime benefit cap on a health insurance policy is actually a real possibility.
Positive things from the last year:
* Having such wonderful friends, who really were there when I needed them.
* Knowing that Colin will never remember this year.
* Having a fantastic oncologist who knew just what to do. She's a bull-headed woman who cuts through red tape, and I thank God that she was on our side.
* Having my mother and Malawry's mother here for so much time during Malawry's chemo took so much of the burden off our shoulders. They are wonderful women.
* Colin took to daycare/school like a champ, and now doesn't want to leave it. We never wanted to keep him in there, but Shepherdstown Day Care is fantastic, and Colin LOVES it there. Now we can't imagine taking him out.
I sat down with the goal of writing a profound, meaningful account of the last year. Reading over what I've written, I think instead it's disjointed, navel-gazing mush. But I don't think I'm going to edit or change it, because that's what the last year was for me. Disjointed and navel-gazing. What greater truth could I possibly post?
Thank you to everyone for your well-wishes, thoughts, and prayers. They were all greatly, tremendously appreciated. I don't think we could have gotten through it without the help and support of so many of you. I have trouble getting close to people; this experience has led me to realize just what good friends we really have.
They just sent the fireworks out over the Magic Kingdom, which we watched from our balcony.
It's going to be a good year.