I will warn you before this starts that I’m going to go into detail about some of Mark’s complications at the end of his life. I’m not going to be graphic, but I think it may be intense so I wanted to give you all a heads up. Oh and its long….
As you all know my faith is a huge part of my life, and because of that my Pasor is a big part of my life. He supported Mark and I thought the hard times. He did Mac and my’s pre-marrital counseling and performed the ‘legal’ part of our wedding. (Mac’s Dad did the sermon part.) He was also diagnosed with melenoma a few years back and after some intense Chemo it was seemingly taken care of. Seemingly, early May late April Ron went back to the doctor reporting shortness of breath and after a few weeks and a few tests they confirmed, the cancer was back and it was in his lungs.
BAM! What, in the lungs? How? No this can’t be happening again. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. OK hold on Amber, there are lots of ways Cancer can spread to the lungs, not good ways but different ways, ways that arn’t the same as Mark right? Nope, not this time. I started talking to some of the people around him (we have since moved on to a different Church because of our schedule) and found out infact it was presenting exactly how Marks did when it hit his lungs.
I DO NOT want this to happen again, not to anyone, but especally not to anyone I know. I didn’t know what to do when I heard, infact for a while I just ignored it. But over the July 4th weekend when everyone was here for Mac’s surprise party we attended my old Church…wow. He was skinny, guant, using pillows to cusion himself, a wheelchair to get around and on oxygen. I lost it right in the middle of worship. My SIL Bec, held my hand for abit gave me a hug an helped me snap out of it, for the moment.
I went back the next week to see what we all predicted would be his last sermon. His wife was on stage with him, she read over 50% of the sermon from his notes and as he sat on stage, I just knew. I knew that he was closer to the end than anyone wanted to see, including me. I had the chance to talk to his wife. I went over to the house and got to re-assure her that her feelings were normal, that she was behaving completly ‘normal’ for the situation.
We talked about plural-talc’s, a proceedure to bind the lung wall to the plural space wall so that fluid can’t build up and cause the lungs problems. He had already had one succesfully (Mark’s failed) but they had decided to forgo the proceedure on the otherside. It just wasn’t worth the hospital stay, yep I understand that. Then we talked about the possibility of a plural-cath. This is a way you can drain the fluid from the plural space at home. As often as needed. Mark had one of these, and for me at least at first that was a relief. I could finaly do something to help Mark when breathing bcame difficult. But as it progressed and we were draining 2 or more times a day with no relief it just became one more thing to do. I hated that I was doing something that should help but it didn’t.
I hated watching Mark struggle to walk. I hated driving him to work because he coudn’t anymore. I hated carrrying around oxygen and the clanging the tanks made in the back of the car. I hated it so much I made little pillows to stop them from rolling around. I hated the day it became nessacary for a wheelchair. I wasn’t strong enough to transfer him in and out of it as often as he needed. I hated every min of it. From the moment he was in the wheelchair I was watching him die and I knew it.
What I hate even more is to watch someone else go though it. I would rather suffer alone. I don’t want anyone to relate to. I don’t want anyone else to lose their spouse or child but I really don’t want them to have to watch them suffer. I don’t want this to be why I experienced life with cancer, because I don’t want there to be another person that has to go thought that, it sucks. I get mad, I get sad, I cry my eyes out and none of it helps. He was still sick and I couldn’t do a thing about it. I don’t want anyone else to ever feel that helpless.
I don’t want to help anyone else ‘suffer well’ because I don’t want anyone else to go through this.
I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.