I promised in my last post that I didn’t intend to use this space as a medical journal. That remains my objective, but almost inexplicably I feel a strong urge to share with you, my blogging friends, a current update.
One week ago, after an emergency trip to the hospital, we made the decision to move Jay home to hospice care. A short version of a very long story is that although we knew with Stage 4 prostate cancer there wasn’t going to be a cure, he entered treatment plans with the hope of having more time. And we’d been having quality time, despite chemo and other very harsh treatments.
I won’t go into details of what brought us to this point, but his current significant decline was spurred on by a catastrophically adverse reaction to the latest treatment, which involved nuclear medicine.
All these years I’ve scoffed more than a little bit at pharmaceutical advertising. It struck me as a bit obscene that the visual ad included people with dreadful diseases running through fields of flowers and “living their best lives,” while the announcer in rapid fire bursts of horrific disclaimers ended with the warning that taking the drug “May cause death.”
Well, we were told that approximately 1% of all patients in this particular intervention program could suffer irreversible bone marrow suppression. And so it goes.
I’ve been happily married for 52 years. I’m counting myself as fortunate. But it is never enough time. Grief is here to stay, and it will tinge and affect everything for as long as it does. I told someone the other day that already the world seems two-dimensional. Flat. Or like food with no taste. I could keep going with the metaphors, but most of you, if not all of you, already know from your own experience.
I have a lot of support. I have my wonderful children and grandchildren and a very large family that surrounds me from all corners of the state (and beyond). I have friends who have walked this road with me and who have shared intimately in the grief because of their own acquaintance with the pain of losing their husbands.
And I have a faith that has never before needed to be as exercised as it is right now—and it is strong.
I do feel that you are my friends. Thank you for allowing me to share my sensitive need for connection.
Until next time…
breathelighter 