Coping With Breast Cancer
Copyright © 2011
By Ricky Sides
Cover art by Jason Merrick
Smashwords Edition
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Dedication
I’d like to dedicate this to my wonderful wife, Sue, who
agreed to let me tell our story in the hopes that it might help other couples
who have to go through similar experiences as they battle this dread disease.
I’d be remiss not to mention all the wonderful health care
professionals who worked so hard on my wife’s case and wish to dedicate it to
them as well.
I also dedicate it to my editor, Frankie Sutton, who prodded
me into revealing a bit more about my feeling than I’d previously revealed and
then worked hard to help me express such emotional issues in a clear manner.
You greatly improved this piece.
Thank you Jason Merrick for the fine cover that you created.
Your cover captures the spirit of the piece.
I’d also like to dedicate it to Jackie Black who is
referenced in the piece. Jackie was an invaluable ally in my wife’s battle with
breast cancer. Sadly, Jackie succumbed to cancer in 2004.
Most of all, I dedicate it to our wonderful support group
who stood by us faithfully through it all. That support group was composed of
our families and friends. Sometimes saying thank you just isn’t enough. It
doesn’t encompass the heartfelt gratitude that I bear in my heart to this day.
I’ll never be able to adequately thank you all.
Discovery
In the fall of 1994, we were living the good life. We’d just
bought our dream house from my parents and moved into it the previous July. We
were bursting with joy in the anticipation of spending our first holiday season
in our new home. After seventeen years of marriage, we finally owned the home
we never even dreamed we’d have, but always wanted Afternoons and weekends were
busy as we rearranged the home to make it our own. I spent much of my time
working outside to clear the old stumps that marred the surface here and there.
Our fourteen-year-old son was overjoyed with his new home.
The house, an old renovated church, was huge when compared to the other home we
had lived in all his life.
The large, acre and a quarter yard with its majestic old oak
trees delighted him.
Sue was especially thrilled with our new home and she spent
much of her afternoon hours cleaning and arranging things in the house until
she had everything decorated to her taste. She also seemed to take a bigger
delight in preparing our meals in her new kitchen, often going to considerable
effort in the process. It seemed to me that her cooking skills improved
dramatically, but maybe it was just that I was working so hard in the yard that
I had a greater appetite.
At the time when we should have been at our happiest, we had
a dark cloud hanging over us. Little did we know that the dark cloud was about
to burst.
Sue had lost a considerable amount of weight and I was
beginning to become concerned. I don’t think I would describe myself as being
extremely worried at that point.
I just didn’t think the weight loss was healthy.
One night I entered the bathroom as she was stepping out of
the shower. I wanted to talk to her about my next home improvement project that
I’d just thought up. I wanted to get her feedback on the idea. As Sue was towel
drying her hair, I talked to her about the new project. As I said, I had
noticed how thin she was getting, but attributed it to months of the bustling
activity in the home. However, when she raised her arms to dry her hair, I
could literally count her ribs. In a loving but firm manner,
I told her of my concerns about her rapid weight loss. I had mentioned the
matter in passing a couple of times during the preceding weeks. However, this
was the first time I suggested she make an appointment with her doctor. During
this time, I also noted that my wife had a mysterious bloody discharge from one
breast, so I suggested that there might be a link to the weight loss and the
discharge.
My wife was reluctant to agree to go to a doctor, but I was
worried, so I grew insistent. It was unusual for me to be demanding of my wife.
That was something I just never did because we base our marriage on respect and
consideration for each other. However, Sue recognized that it was a true
concern and fear for her health that caused such insistence on my part.
Although, I didn’t want her to worry unnecessarily, I think my worry caused her
to begin to share my concerns to some extent. Finally, I managed to get a
promise from her that she would see her physician the day after Thanksgiving,
which was just a few days away.
The day after Thanksgiving, true to her word, we got into
her car for the drive to the doctor, never suspecting that our lives were about
to be forever changed. All the way
there, I kept hoping the doctor would tell us that my worries were unfounded.
After the nurse escorted my wife to the examination rooms, I
sat in gynecologist’s waiting room. I settled back in the chair thinking it
would be a while, but after only a few minutes, Sue came back. When I looked at
her, my heart stopped, she looked scared and pale. Sue told me that the doctor
said she must go to the hospital at once for a mammogram and that the doctor
was calling ahead to make sure she was tested right away.
We were traveling in Sue’s Omni so she had automatically
gotten behind the wheel to drive, just as she always did when we travelled in
her car. On the drive to the hospital, she suddenly broke down and started to
cry. I had her pull over to the side of the road so I could take over driving.
As we sat on the side of the road with passing traffic buffeting our car, Sue
expressed her fears, saying, “The doctor told me it might be breast cancer.”
I can tell you now that when you hear the words, breast
cancer, in relation to your wife for the first time, you will find they are the
scariest, most terrifying words you will ever hear. Even as I tried to reassure
her, I knew the color must have drained from my face. My mind went numb, and all I could think to
say was, “I don’t think she could know that. You were only in there a few
minutes. I’ll drive us to the hospital. You’ll see, I think she’s wrong.” But
even as I spoke those clumsy words of comfort, I think Sue saw the truth in my
eyes, and the truth was that I was terrified.
The doctor had indeed made the arrangements as she had said
and the hospital staff was expecting my wife’s arrival. Almost immediately, the
staff whisked her back into the radiology area where she underwent her first
mammography at age 35.
I waited tensely, not yet comprehending what was happening.
I didn’t even know what a mammogram was at the time, beyond the knowledge that
it was some sort of X-ray procedure. My head was reeling, almost as if I had
way too much alcohol to drink. Looking back at it now, I was probably in a sort
of state of shock. Nervously, I thumbed through some brochures sitting in a
rack in the waiting room, trying to gain an insight into what was happening to
my wife. However, I couldn’t really concentrate on the information they
contained; my mind started wandering.
I felt a nervous chill as I thought of how happy she’d been
in recent months in our new home. I
couldn’t remember a time when she had been happier. It just didn’t seem fair
that a disease would spoil that happiness. As I continued trying to study the
brochures, a task made even harder with my watery eyes, I told myself that
there had to be some mistake. The doctor was wrong. My wife could not have
breast cancer. I wanted to scream at someone, No way, not my Sue!
The wait was not very long. Sue came into the waiting room
and she told me that we now had to go to see another doctor in the city.
With an ever-growing sense of dread, we headed to our car
and drove to the next doctor’s office. We scheduled an appointment to see the
doctor the next day, signed and filled out tons of paperwork in preparation for
that visit, and then we left.
Still not sure of what we were dealing with, we went home
and decided to wait about contacting the family until we knew something
definite that we could share with them.
We were on pins and needles the next day on our way to the
new doctor’s office. By now, I had convinced myself that this was all a huge
mistake and that the physician was wrong. Again I told myself that my wife couldn’t
possibly have breast cancer. In the doctor’s office my wife was examined and
then the doctor showed us the mammogram. He explained that it was suspicious.
He wanted to do a procedure called needle aspiration. The procedure involves
piercing the breast with a long needle and extracting a small sample of the
lump. Experts who can confirm whether the sample is cancerous or benign then
examine the sample. I decided to wait outside for that procedure. It’s probably
best that I did because Sue screamed in pain as the doctor performed the
painful procedure. I heard her crying out while I waited in the hall.
We went home that afternoon. Shortly after we arrived, Sue
came into the dining room and stood in front of the gas heater near my desk
where I was working on a file on my word processor. I turned and saw her
standing there with tears streaming down her face. I stood up from my chair,
wrapped my arms around her, and we embraced each other. As I held her, great
wracking sobs tore at her frail body, so I loosened my grip and stroked the
back of her head. I spoke words of reassurance, but they did little to calm her
terrified mind. When she’d cried herself out and her tears had slowed to a
trickle, we began to talk about the situation. In hindsight, I know that both
of us were in a state of denial. I know now that it is a natural reaction to
what we were going through. We had even convinced ourselves that this was all a
big mistake or that the greedy doctors were just milking our insurance. Sue
found that line of rationalization better than the truth, so for her it was a
bit calming. However, the thought of doctors tormenting my wife to make a buck
infuriated me. I felt confident that at some point they would admit their error
and tell us that she did not have cancer. Remembering Sue’s cry of pain earlier
in the day, I was also incensed that anyone would put a woman through such a
painful procedure as a needle aspiration when they should know damned well from
the mammogram that it wasn’t cancer. I’m ashamed to admit that reaction, but
it’s the truth and just goes to show you the desperation of our denial. When
it’s your wife going through this nightmare, you will grasp at any thread of
hope you can find.
The doctor’s office called and asked us to return to discuss
the needle aspiration results. The report confirmed that my wife had breast
cancer. Now, we had to accept it. The doctor laid out her options patiently and
as kindly as possible. I remember Sue’s nails digging into my palm as I held
her hand while we listened.
I was feeling a sense of panic and my thoughts were muddled
with fear for my wife. When he finished speaking, I realized that I must have
missed something and looked at him as I asked him to repeat the question.
“I was asking which option you wanted to pursue,” the doctor
replied kindly.
I had to say, “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t think we
really absorbed all of that. Would you mind explaining it again?” To his
credit, the doctor kindly repeated my wife’s options without a trace of
irritation over our lack of concentration. This is one of those times where you
shouldn’t be afraid to ask questions. The doctor will know that it is a lot to
absorb and that the husband must be the support lifeline, therefore, you need
to comprehend the situation.
When he finished I looked to my wife but she shook her head
and said, “I don’t want to decide this right now.”
I didn’t think it good to put off the decision because the
doctor had indicated that the cancer was the rapid-spreading variety and I was
ready to press her. The doctor, seeing my anxiousness, interceded and prevented
me from interfering when he said that she didn’t have to decide immediately. He
scheduled an appointment to see her in two days and we left. During the drive
home, Sue asked me to repeat her options and I did the best I could to explain
them to her. However, I could tell from the glassy eyed expression on her face
that none of what I was saying was sinking into her awareness. For the first
time, I admitted to myself that my wife had cancer. It was a mind numbing
experience, made worse by the fact that she didn’t just have breast cancer. She
had a fast spreading form of the disease.
We were both terrified, not only of the known but the unknown as well.
There is no guidebook to tell you how to react to the life-altering news that
your wife has a deadly disease in her body.
How do you cope with something that could take your wife and son’s
mother away from you?
That night, we discussed my wife’s options and you can
believe me when I say, there is no easy choice. She could opt for a double
mastectomy, which would be the removal of both breasts. Another option was the single mastectomy,
which would only remove the affected breast.
The final option was to perform a lumpectomy that would remove the
cancer and a small amount of healthy tissue surrounding the lump. I’m afraid I
wasn’t very useful in the conversation. I was terrified that I would give the
wrong advice, so when she asked me; I simply told her that it was her decision
to make and explained each option to her. The explanations were necessary
because in the shock of everything that had happened, she was not processing
the information clearly, much like me earlier at the doctor’s office.
The double mastectomy would ensure that she never had a
recurrence of breast cancer. The single mastectomy would guarantee that she
never had a recurrence in the affected breast. The lumpectomy would remove the
cancer, followed by chemotherapy and then radiation therapy. However, with the
lumpectomy, there would always be a chance of recurrence.
After going over her options, I told her that my only goal
was her health and her continued presence in our son’s life and mine. I would
support any decision that she made since it was her body, but the selfish part
of me hoped my wife would elect to take the least radical option. That way the healthy portion of her breast
would remain. Nevertheless, even as shocked and mind numbed as I was at that
point, I refused to tell her my true feelings in the matter. In all honesty, I
should reveal that I was terrified that if I told her what I wanted her to do
and it ended with a recurrence, then it would be my fault. It was my fear which
kept me from revealing my own selfish desire in the matter and not some sense
that by keeping those feelings to myself, I was performing an act of noble
self-sacrifice. I told myself that if I had something wrong with one finger on
my hand, I’d not want doctors amputating the entire hand. However, deep down, I
was ashamed of myself and mentally chastised myself for such selfish thoughts.
I struggled with that feeling of guilt until my wife recovered. Hell, I still
struggle with it, even though time has seemed to verify that she made the right
decision.
She eliminated the double mastectomy as too extensive at
that point and we then discussed the remaining options again. After a lengthy
discussion, she decided that she wanted to go with the lumpectomy and follow-up
treatments. I supported her decision because the doctor had assured us that if
she opted for that procedure and there was a recurrence, her odds would be the
same as the odds she was currently facing.
That night we broke the news to our respective families,
both of whom were shocked to hear that my wife was now battling cancer. Just
like anyone else in this situation, we needed the support system that our
families could give us and they did not fail us. When my wife faltered and
handed me the phone I explained the options the doctor had given us. Some family members questioned the wisdom of
the option that she had selected, but I defended her choice pointing out what
the doctor had said regarding the odds. I also used the analogy that had occurred
to me earlier by pointing out that if I had an injured finger I’d want it
amputated and not the entire hand, so I could understand my wife’s position.
No one actually said it, but I had a sense that perhaps some
thought I had persuaded her to take an option that would retain the greater
portion of the affected breast. It might just have been my own guilt causing me
to feel that way. It bothered me a little, but I knew it wasn’t true because
I’d been too afraid to state my preference. Therefore, I
couldn’t be guilty of pressuring her in that manner.
Although I wanted her to elect the option she chose, I would have accepted my
wife’s decision for the double mastectomy because her figure wasn’t my primary
concern. My chief concern was that I would lose my wife, and that thought
scared me more than any other. Compared to that loss, anything was preferable.
I spoke to her at that point, suggesting that maybe she should have a
mastectomy, since so many in the family thought that it would be wiser, but at
that stage she was opposed to the idea and I breathed a mental sigh of relief.
Let me make this clear. If I had truly thought that it was required to save her
life, I would have gladly embraced the concept of the double mastectomy. But at
that stage I didn’t believe that was the case, and felt that the families were
overreacting. They were older and remembered the horror stories of victims from
prior years before the modern advances that were just coming into practice.
Rationally, I could relate to her desire to preserve as much of her body as
possible.
The day my wife had her lumpectomy we were both overwhelmed
by the support of the family members who were in attendance and sat in the
large waiting room while she underwent the surgery. It wasn’t just our
immediate family either. Some of my aunts were there as was my stepfather’s
sister. I can’t overemphasize the importance of the support system and what it
means to you as the time drags by in a waiting room. Their presence meant that
there was little time to permit my imagination to plague me. While we were
waiting, several different family members volunteered to help in different
ways. Some promised to bring food by the house so that we wouldn’t have to
worry about our meals. Others volunteered to come do the housecleaning. I think
from my perspective, the most important thing they did to help was just to be
there and let us know how much they cared. Keeping me from going insane during
the wait was a close second.
The doctor had informed us that they would do the lumpectomy
and then do an axillary lymph node dissection. This procedure involves the
removal of the lymph nodes from beneath the arm of the affected side of the
body. Pathology dissects and examines them to determine whether the cancer has
spread.
When the doctor finally came to the waiting room to see me,
I was a nervous wreck. He informed me that my wife had come through the surgery
just fine and was in recovery where she would remain for a while under the
careful observation of the staff. After that, the nurses would take her to her
room. Then the doctor gave me the bad news. Several of the lymph nodes showed
evidence that the cancer had spread. My wife had the fast spreading invasive
cancer.
If not for the support of our families, I don’t know how I
would have gotten through the next hour. My wife’s oldest sister stepped
forward and asked all the right questions as my mind reeled in shock from the
news. She then patiently explained to me what the next steps would entail as my
mind had stopped registering the doctor’s words at some point.
When my wife was wheeled out of recovery, I walked beside
her bed and held her hand as she was wheeled through the halls. Flowers had
arrived in her room while she was in surgery. The people at her factory had
chipped in and sent a nice bouquet and an eloquent card that expressed their
support for my wife. I remember that she cried as she read the card.
Finally, the moment I had dreaded came when my wife asked me
what the doctor had said to me about her surgery. Some of the family members
had suggested that I keep the truth from her until she felt better. I was
considering taking their advice, but as she looked into my eyes, I could tell
that she saw the truth on my face and in my eyes. At that point, we had been
married for seventeen years and my wife and I had always been honest with each
other. Therefore, I decided it was only fair that I tell her the whole truth.
I told her exactly what the doctor reported to me and of
course, she cried.
Once more, Sue’s oldest sister was an invaluable ally as she
reassured my wife that the doctor’s report was not a death sentence. The doctor
told us he was fairly certain that the cancer had not spread beyond the lymph
nodes.
We could not have asked for better nurses than we had the
hospital during my wife’s overnight stay. They were wonderful and supportive of
both of us. One of the nurses taught me how to strip the drain tube attached to
my wife’s breast to prevent it from stopping up. This was my first experience
at assisting personally in my wife’s medical care, so of course I was nervous.
There would be many more instances of this during my wife’s recovery.
On the second day of my wife’s recovery, the factory where
she worked telephoned our home. There were some forms they needed for her
medical leave that I needed to pick up and complete. On the way to pick up
those forms and turn in my wife’s work uniforms, I stopped at a market and
purchased a thank you card. Into that card I inserted a typed letter explaining
to the people just how their thoughtful gift of flowers and the card had lifted
Sue’s spirits. And indeed that was true. The tears she’d shed when reading the
card were from a sense of joy and awe that her coworkers held her in such high
esteem.
The receptionist in the factory asked me to wait while she
went to get the personnel manager. The personnel manager was a warm and
friendly lady who immediately inquired as to my wife’s condition. I told the
lady that she was on the mend but that she was still in a great deal of
discomfort from the surgery. She gave me the papers that would have to be
signed and filled out. She had gone to the trouble of filling out most of the
paperwork for us. I thanked her for her kindness and the card and flowers.
I then gave the personnel manager the card, which she read
and handed to the receptionist to read as she read the letter that I had
enclosed. Her eyes clouded with tears as she read the letter and I knew she’d
reached the point where I’d described the moment of joy their thoughtful gift
had brought to an otherwise gloomy day. She shared the letter with the
receptionist who reacted in similar fashion.
I thanked them both and asked that they inform my wife’s
coworkers as to her condition and her gratitude for their thoughtfulness. I
reference this incident because it was an awakening of awareness for both my
wife and me. Neither of us really understood the esteem with which our friends,
family and coworkers held us until that week. It was a moving experience, which
helped reinforce in our minds that we were not so alone and alienated from our
friends and families as we had first thought would be the case as we battled
the disease.
A week after the surgery my wife visited her surgeon for a
follow-up appointment. It was at this meeting that the surgeon told us he had
good news. The cancer was hormonereceptive and therefore he recommended
hormonal therapy. Of course I had no idea what this meant and he had to explain
it all. He recommended Tamoxifen to be taken for five years after the
chemotherapy course was completed. The doctor assured us that this was very
good news as it is easier to prevent a recurrence of a hormone-receptive
cancer. He also scheduled my wife for her first appointment with the oncologist
in the neighboring city of Huntsville, Alabama.
Our first trip into the Huntsville oncology facility was
simply amazing. To this day I can’t forget the quality of the professionals who
work in that section of the medical community. The doctor was great, but the
protocol nurse was simply an angel. Indeed the entire staff worked diligently
to treat patients who are more frightened than they have ever been in their
lives, and on that score, we were no exception. Their approach in my wife’s
case was to calmly work us through everything step by step.
The protocol nurse advised her that she might want to look
into a turban or wig, as the chemotherapy treatments which she would be taking
were strong and the treatments would cause hair loss. A week later we returned
to oncology for my wife’s first chemotherapy session. We’d heard all the horror
stories about how sick these treatments make the patients and it was with a
great sense of dread that my wife took her first treatment, which was
administered via IV.
I remember trying to cheer her up by talking quietly to her
as the small IV bag dripped the medication into her body. I even managed to
make another patient smile as I told my wife a joke I’d recently heard and
saved to use upon that otherwise solemn occasion. It’s funny, some of the
little things I remember. I also recall wondering as I watched the IV drip if
those stories I’d heard were true.
Prior to that first chemotherapy treatment, Sue had begun to
recover enough to want to do some light housework and cooking. It took a call
to her sisters before I was able to stop her from attempting housecleaning
chores, but we compromised on the cooking. She cooked while I did the heavy
lifting and dishwashing. Her spirits seemed lifted as she became more active in
the home, and she began to talk about returning to work. I was opposed to that
because she was so weak from everything that she’d endured to that point. After
the dinner was finished, she readily admitted that I was right and she was
still too weak to return to her job. I reassured her that she’d get to return
to work when all this was over, and she let the matter drop. But it was a point
of contention that came up again several times. I finally figured out that the
base of the problem was money. She was accustomed to earning her own, and
didn’t have that source of income while she was off on medical leave. I would
give her what I could, but my income was gone almost before it reached me, so
there was little to share.
We were greatly encouraged in the days following that first
chemotherapy session. Though my wife felt a bit queasy, there was none of the
debilitating sickness that we’d heard so much about. We had yet to learn that
the chemotherapy would have a cumulative affect and that the sickness would get
geometrically worse with each successive treatment. Soon enough we would
experience that reality check.
During this period of time my wife’s sisters and nieces were
a Godsend. They came to our home to help out in a major way with deep cleaning
everything in the place. This was necessary because of the breakdown of a
patient’s immune system after losing so many lymph nodes and taking
chemotherapy. Everything has to be as sanitary as humanly possible. Never being
the greatest of house cleaners, I did what I could after work of course, but my
efforts were terribly inadequate to our needs for perfection. My sister and
mother also helped with the cleaning and often brought in meals as did my
wife’s sisters to ensure that we had decent food while I experimented and
learned to cook acceptable food. My wife had gone from surgical recovery to
chemotherapy and was weak. None of us wanted her attempting housework or
cooking if it was preventable.
During this time frame I also learned to do the shopping and
do it right. This was a duty that my wife had always considered her domain and
I seldom ventured into a grocery store for more than a handful of items. I
didn’t know where anything was and had to learn everything. I also learned to
wash and dry the clothes and of course put everything away. These were tasks
she normally took care of, but I found them pleasant and to this day still do
the washing and drying, but she puts the clothes away citing that I never have
learned to do this task to her satisfaction.
We continued to make the trips to Huntsville oncology every
two weeks for the treatments and with each successive treatment the side
effects grew progressively worse. As I recall it was just before the third
chemotherapy treatment that my wife’s hair began to fall out. Two days later I
shaved her head. She cried as I cut her lovely hair down to the scalp in
preparation for the shaving. With an aching heart, I assured her that it would
come back. When we finished with her I shaved my own head in moral support and
then our fifteen-year-old son volunteered to make it unanimous and his support
was strictly unsolicited.
We had purchased a wig through a beauty shop just a quarter
mile down the road from our home. The beautician was a kind hearted woman and
is a family friend. She got the wig for us at her cost. My wife wore the wig
out in public but preferred a turban when she was home.
Soon after this incident, the chemotherapy side effects that
we’d thought weren’t going to be so bad got much, much worse. My wife would be
incredibly sick the first and second nights after a session. Neither of us got
much sleep at night and I can still close my eyes and hear her groans of
misery. Perhaps this is why to this day if she is down with a cold and groans
at night I immediately awaken and check on her.
Sue began to complain of a foul smell emanating from her
skin but I assured her that I could smell nothing unusual. At first I couldn’t
detect the odor she was referencing, but that soon changed. I never did tell
her that there was a bad scent associated with the chemotherapy. She was
miserable enough without thinking that her scent could offend people. It never
offended me of course. I understood the source of the odor and that was frankly
one worry she could do without. It is worth noting that our fifteen-year-old
son did reference an aroma once in her presence. As my wife looked at him I
shook my head, gesturing for him to be quiet and blamed the odor on my cooking,
which come to think of it, might well have been the source of what he smelled.
After the first few chemotherapy sessions, my wife’s surgeon
recommended that she have a shunt embedded in her chest for the administering
of the medication. This was necessary because the powerful drug was literally
damaging her veins through which the chemotherapy was being administered. The
surgery to implant this device in my wife’s upper chest region seemed to be
harder on her than the original surgery. The recuperation also seemed to be
more difficult for her.
At around the midpoint of my wife’s chemotherapy I began to
run low on my remaining vacation days. I had managed to use them carefully by
working most days and taking vacation days only the first two days after the
chemotherapy and of course in the aftermath of the surgeries. Our
brother-in-law who was married to my wife’s sister understood the situation and
he stepped forward volunteering to take my wife to the doctor’s appointments
and for chemotherapy, thus allowing me to work and keep ends met to a degree.
Our bill structure was pretty much tied to a dual income and with the loss of
my wife’s income things were beginning to get tough. My parents helped by
waiving one of the house payments on the home we’d bought from them.
With my brother-in-law stepping in to assist, I managed to
keep us afloat somehow. Once more, the assistance of our families was a
Godsend. It seemed every time they visited they brought in groceries and
household cleaning supplies. Sue’s oldest sister, Carolyn, and the one next to
my wife in age named Christine were fantastic. God bless them for their
kindness. I will never forget what they did for us and would do anything for either
of them. Christine is the mother of the nieces who helped with the cleaning and
the wife of the brother-in-law who was himself a cancer survivor. His moral
support for us was incredibly beneficial. Jackie was without a doubt the
kindest, most unselfish and giving man I’ve ever known. Sadly the disease came
back in his case and he passed away a few years back. My wife never forgot his
kindness and would visit him to try to cheer him up and lend her moral support.
She was devastated when he passed away. Everyone who knew that gentleman was
devastated.
There were a battery of other medical tests from CT scans
and an MRI to x-rays and blood work. My brother-in-law took my wife to many of
these tests so that I could continue to save as much time off as possible.
These tests were necessary to determine if the cancer had spread to other
organs.
The last two chemotherapy sessions were by far the worst. My
wife had a total of eight of these treatments but after the seventh, I was not
at all certain she would take the final treatment. She was tired of being so
sick and miserable after the treatments and was ready to say enough.
This turn of events terrified me because we had been assured
that if she took all of the treatments and medications, there was a good chance
of affecting a cure. Yet at the height of her sickness after the treatment, she
was adamant that the seventh would be the last. Fortunately, she had a change
of heart as she got better after a few days. The last chemotherapy after
effects was devastating. I lost track of the times that she threw up and
getting her to eat anything at all was very difficult. I couldn’t even tempt
her with the popsicles which had comforted her after several of the treatments.
A few days after that final treatment, we got a call from
oncology. My wife’s white blood cell count was down and they needed us to come
in for a supply of injections which I was to give her daily to build her blood
back up.
We were on Church Street, about a quarter mile from the
oncology building when a wave of nausea hit my wife and she asked me to pull
over so she could throw up. I immediately slowed and was looking for a place to
pull off the road, but before I could stop she threw open her door and leaned
precariously out to vomit. I grabbed her by the arm to keep her from falling
out of the car as I brought it to a stop. In the rearview mirror, I saw a
police squad car and figured they’d stop, but they just drove around us.
In the oncology facility one of the nurses patiently worked
with me to teach me step by step how I was to administer the premeasured
injections, then under her supervision I gave my wife her first injection of
this drug. I think giving her that first injection is probably one of the
hardest things I had to do during her treatment phase. The absolute last thing
I wanted to do was cause my wife pain or discomfort but you do what you have to
do for those you love. Someone had to give her the injections and at least if I
stepped up and took care of that she could have them at home where she was most
comfortable. I
was able to do what was required though I never did get over
the paranoia regarding breaking a needle. Thank goodness that never happened.
We were both greatly relieved the day that I gave her the last injection.
In the aftermath of the chemotherapy there came a brief
period of time of recuperation and then the radiation therapy began. I took her
to the first and the aforementioned brother-in-law took her to several. By now
I had used all of my available vacation and my personnel manager had me take
family medical leave for the time needed to take care of my wife after her last
surgery. The last surgery that my wife had was the one to have the embedded
shunt removed. The surgery was hard on her. The recuperation took longer than
her original surgery or so it seemed to me.
Through all of this, our families were supportive and I
don’t see how we could have gotten through it without them. I think a special
bond formed between my wife’s family and me during this ordeal. I believe a deep
mutual respect developed. A respect that was much deeper than normal.
The same is true for the relationship that my wife has with
my family, all of whom were as stricken by stark fear as was I when I first
learned of my wife’s cancer.
Sue resisted all efforts on the part of the medical
community to get her into a support group because no support groups included
the spouses. I encouraged her to go and not worry about me, but she was adamant
that outside the medical community, I had been her caregiver and most closely
shared her experiences. She insisted that together we would get through the
aftermath just as we had faced the ordeal. With strong family support this was
possible for us. In her thinking, we already had a support group. A support
team that had been there for her from the beginning and it was one that didn’t
exclude the spouse. This is not meant to be a criticism of support groups. They
do great work. I reference it only because the spousal exclusion was the reason
that my wife never officially joined a support group. I wish she had done so.
I’m sure that there were things that such a group would have been able to
assist her with when it comes to dealing with issues related to breast cancer.
But my wife had been through so much that I was unwilling to press the issue.
Then the Tamoxifen hormonal pill treatments began. Tamoxifen
has several side effects but the one that was most notable in my wife’s case
were the wild mood swings.
The first two years were the worst. It got bad a few times
but I do not regret those times. She was taking a medication that could prevent
a recurrence and possibly save her life. Therefore, our son and I tolerated any
inconvenience good-naturedly because we knew it was the medication causing the
mood swings. She is worth far more to us, than being upset over a few sharp
comments. I mention this as a caution to men whose wives are taking that
medication. If they suffer mood swings then always remember it’s the medication
causing this. Be patient. I promise that phase won’t last.
Let me state here and now for the record that every member
of the medical community involved in my wife’s treatment were kindhearted
professionals who never did anything but their best for her.
Early detection is the key to surviving breast cancer.
It is possible to survive breast cancer. The key to survival
is early detection. To that end I cannot stress enough the importance of
learning the early detection techniques. There are a multitude of sources out
there from which you can gather this information. So learn the warning signs.
Husbands, you need to learn the warning signs as well. One of the signs is a
bloody discharge from the breast. Husbands may be the first to note that
warning sign. Therefore, if you are a husband you should educate yourself in
these matters. But the detection of that discharge is not a certain sign of
cancer. Some cysts cause a similar discharge. Any such discharge is a certain
sign that the woman should see a health care professional as soon as possible.
Also, if you detect a lump in your wife’s breast you should
mention it to her and she should schedule an appointment with a doctor. Not all
lumps indicate cancer. Some are benign cysts. My wife had a scare, years after
her bout with breast cancer, when she discovered another lump and again there
was a bloody discharge. The needle aspiration proved that in that case, it was
a benign cyst. In my wife’s cancer case, there was an associated dramatic
weight loss, but that may not always happen in all cases. However, if your wife
begins to lose weight at an alarming rate it might be a good idea to speak to
her about an appointment with the doctor.
Women should practice self exams on a monthly basis
beginning at age 20. Women 20 – 39 should have a breast exam by a doctor every
three years. Women 40 and older should have an exam yearly. They should also
have a yearly mammogram.
The medical community is back and forth on when women should
begin scheduling mammography. That timing has switched back and forth in recent
years. The current thinking is age 40 to begin mammograms, unless your spouse
is the premenopausal firstdegree relative, (mother, sister, or daughter,) of a
female who had breast cancer. In that case, they suggest beginning ten years
earlier than the patient was diagnosed, but not younger than 25. So if your
wife’s sister was diagnosed at age 40, then it is the current recommendation
that she be checked by mammography at age 30. Here is a source for more
information: http://www.siumed.edu/breastcenter/screening.htm
A few thoughts for husbands.
If your wife is diagnosed as having breast cancer then you
have a tough job ahead. You’re going to need to step up to the plate and take
as much pressure and stress off her as you can. That means doing the housework,
and believe me it’s work.
It also means taking over the laundry, shopping, cooking,
and if you have young children, you will have additional responsibilities. All
those little things your wife handles on a daily basis suddenly become your
responsibility. Don’t panic. If I could do it, so can you.
She’s going to want to talk to you at times concerning her
fears and everything that’s going on in your lives. Let her be the one to bring
up the subject and then let her lead the discussion. Most of the time, she is
not looking to you for answers, she just needs a compassionate shoulder. At
other times, she’ll need to avoid the topic as her mind tries to shut it out to
gain a little peace. In my case, I learned to wait until my wife wanted to
discuss what she was going through and feeling. That may have been the wrong
approach, but I didn’t want to put any pressure on her, and it worked great
with her. The truth is I’m not a doctor. The best thing you can do is consult
with professionals in the health care community to get any medical advice.
You need to establish and keep open a good line of
communication with your wife. If you see that something is bothering her but
she doesn’t broach a subject, try letting her know you’re there and willing to
listen when she’s ready to talk about it. Then, go do the dishes. If you’re
like me, you probably need to do them again anyway. Believe me, you will get
better at that too.
You are probably wondering about something that isn’t in the
brochures and that is your love life. When should a man make romantic advances
toward a woman, who is diagnosed and undergoing treatment, for the disease?
This is quite possibly the simplest thing you will have to remember. The answer
is when she is ready. Now, that might sound a bit flippant, but that wasn’t my
intention. What I mean is that you should take your cues from your wife, first
and foremost. She will let you know when
she is physically well enough for you to make such advances. The doctor will
probably make recommendations, but even then, you’ll need to make allowances
for things such as tenderness to surgical regions. Your wife’s comfort and
well-being should always come first, ahead of any feelings you might have. If
you have questions about the medical aspects, ask the doctor, but always
remember, your wife is the final judge on whether she is ready.
My wife refused to go to an established support group but I
found an acquaintance at work to help.
Her name was Judy and she was a breast cancer survivor. I didn’t know
about Judy’s cancer until after my wife’s diagnosis. When Judy heard about
Sue’s condition, she came to me and told me that she was a survivor, and that
if I ever had any questions or needed someone to talk to, I was welcome to talk
to her. A few days later I worked up the nerve to ask her a question I hadn’t
asked anyone else. It’s a question that you’ll probably ask yourself at some
point too. How should I treat my wife sexually?
Judy’s answer was, “Just the same as before her fight with
the disease.” She went on to explain that I should use common sense. If my wife
was healthy enough for a normal sex life, but I behaved in a withdrawn manner,
then she’ll begin to think I’m no longer interested because of the surgical
procedures. That behavior would hurt her emotionally. On the other hand, you
don’t want to over compensate by going overboard either. You should try to
restore your normal, pre-cancer love life, as much as possible.
Dealing with the fear.
The most horrifying words a man can hear is, “Your wife has
cancer.” You are in a situation that is
going to be the most terrifying ordeal you will ever face. Remember that it is
important for you to deal with your fears, but you must be rock steady for your
wife. Her fears are going to be a lot
greater than yours are. Be careful that
you don’t add your fears to hers. That will just cause her more anxiety. Try to
find a trusted family member or friend you can talk to about what you are
feeling. However, don’t just put on a
smiling face in front of your wife all the time, either. I mean, you don’t want
her to think you don’t care.
One night while Sue was out of the house with her sisters I
picked up the phone when my mother called. I was just sitting there in the
house crying because I’d dealt with the fear alone until it had almost consumed
me. My mother talked to me for a while that night and we discussed my fears for
the first time. Nothing was resolved when the call ended, but suddenly I didn’t
feel so all alone. Someone out there knew how I felt and allowed me to voice
it. That helped me deal with my fear. That’s how support groups function. They
can help you deal with a multitude of issues.
While you’re afraid of losing her, she is afraid of losing
her life, and that is whole different level of fear. Remind her that the
doctors have said that her odds were good since it was detected early. Fear
does strange things to the mind. As I stated earlier, it can cause the patient
to dump information almost as fast as they receive it. So be patient. You may
need to reassure her several times before it sinks into her awareness.
Appearances. Your wife’s fears will not be on survival and
recovery alone. After her surgeries have been completed and her wounds have
healed, she will start to be concerned about her appearance and sexuality. She
is going to start thinking that you will no longer love her because the disease
has altered her body. I became aware of those feelings when my wife directly
asked me how I could love her when her body was so changed. This is an area in
which you must . . . and I do mean must, make sure you treat her exactly the
way you treated her before the surgeries. It should go without saying that you
should reassure her verbally as well. I made sure my wife knew by my actions
and words that she was still desirable and sexy. My subsequent behavior gave
her no room to doubt that I had spoken truthfully. Remember, the outside of her
body might look different but it is still the same sweet lady you fell in love
with.
About support groups.
My wife refused to attend support group meetings because of my
exclusion. I would have preferred that
she had because I feel they could have helped her to deal with the emotional
trauma. Try to encourage your wife to join, but as I stated before, do not
pressure her. We did have a strong group of family and friends who helped us
through much of the crisis. Remember, you do not have to face this alone. There
are now support groups available for husbands of cancer survivors, which is
great. I wish there had been one in the
mid-nineties when we were experiencing it. I would have joined and I encourage
you to join, if one is available. A support group with their wider range of
experiences can help you avoid problems that you can’t possibly anticipate
because they are out of your realm of experience. Some of those problems will
involve helping your wife to recover more quickly from her ordeal. That alone
is well worth your time. A support group will be men who are going through, (or
have in the past gone through,) the same experiences as you are. You will all
be able to reach out to each other, offer advice, and just be there when you
need a friend.
In closing, I want you to know that although I’m not a
doctor or health care professional of any sort, my door is always open to the
husband of a woman going through the disease. My email address is attached
below. Feel free to correspond with me when you need to talk about what’s
happening in your life. I may be able to help and I will if I can.
Family members and friends who have helped get couples
through this disease by acting as an unofficial support group, I salute you.
God bless you all. You have no idea how very much you mean to us and help us
get past the emergencies. I’m not sure how things would have turned out if our
support system hadn’t helped as they did.
~
Sue on February 14th, 1998.
Ricky Sides was Born in Florence, Alabama, in May of 1958.
The author’s writing experience includes the science fiction, action adventure
book The Birth of the Peacekeepers and the other books in the series. The
author also wrote the fantasy, action adventure Brimstone and the Companions of
Althea series which is a nine novel set, based on the on-line game t4c (the
fourth coming) and was written by Ricky Sides under the pen name Raistlin and
edited and collaborated on by a wonderful lady from Louisiana under the pen
name Kittie Justice. The author also wrote a book on women’s self-defense named
The Ultimate in Women’s Self-Defense. Claws, a horror slash technothriller, set
in Athens, Alabama, is his latest book.
Ricky Sides rsides22219@charter.net
http://www.sonofartherk.com