David’s Story

Linda writes: My husband was a very unique and energetic man. He was very smart in business, and his advice was sought after by many. He was a “fixer” in that he was always making things (and people) “better.” He had a gift that way. Physically, he could work circles around men half his age (and often did). He loved the Lord, and was very devoted to his family. He was sensitive to the feelings of others, and often set his own needs aside for the sake of everyone else. He was very busy, always. He was a wonderful husband, very romantic, and very sweet. We dated for 6 years, and were married 17 1/2 years, totalling 23 1/2 years.

The Cancer Experience: When my husband was first diagnosed with cancer 9 years ago, in 1996, we were very scared. There wasn’t much data available about chondrosarcoma. We trusted our doctor, who was a musculoskeletal oncologist, very much. He told us that he would do his best to make Dave “his survivor”.

After surgical resection of Dave’s shoulder, we had to learn again how to function and live with cancer. It was not easy. Day to day functions that we take for granted had to be relearned in a new way, because Dave did not have the use of that arm any more. Everything in our lives changed, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Our spirituality grew more and more. We lived more in the day by day mode, rather than looking too far into the future. We became more and more thankful for each day. We changed our long term plans to be short term plans. We didn’t look for death, but knew it could come someday.

When the cancer metastacized just in time for Dave’s 5 year check up, we were bewildered and scared again. The surgical resection of the lung was a very difficult surgery for Dave this time. He took longer to heal, and was in more pain. I was scared the whole time. All along we were told, “surgery our only option”. We did all the radical diets, settling on a vegetarian diet that seemed very healthy. We did a lot of juicing, and ate raw vegetables mostly, and while there was cancer going on (we didn’t know) we at least were feeling healthy. Dave got more rest, cut his work hours, relaxed more, ate healthier, and loved better than ever before. He joined a cancer support group that met for 12 weeks; came to grips with what having cancer meant to him and for us. I wish I had gone to the group with him, but I do feel (and he did too) that I was as supportive as I possibly could have been. I did the diet, and gave up what we felt was detrimental, willingly. We felt that WE had the disease, not just Dave.

I am crying as I write this, because if I had known how the end would feel, maybe we could have tried other options? I am scared of each day right now, because I don’t know exactly how to make it through each one. I live right now moment by moment, because I never know which feeling will overwhelm me now.

On February 5th of this year, we found out that the cancer had again metastacized, to both lungs, and also to the left ventricle of Dave’s heart. They told us that Dave could live 3 to 6 months, but that he also could die at any time because of the location of the tumor. Then the doctor left the room (this was a cardiologist we had never met before) with instructions for others to leave us alone. We stayed in the room for nearly an hour, afraid to leave the doctor’s office, crying the whole time. From then on, everything went quickly. We made a mad dash to visit Dave’s mom and siblings in another state, visited our attorney to be sure everything was ready legally, met with the kids and grandkids, and then began to prepare for the end. We prayed each day for “one more day! “.

Dave lived until May 4th. We had hospice come in at the end, although I did everything myself for my husband. We never let the nurse do anything other than advise. I felt privileged to be able to take care of Dave’s every need. When he got so weak that he couldn’t bear his own weight, Dave’s son would lift him, and I would care for him. My husband called us “the A team”. I stayed up through the night to be sure he was breathing.

I don’t remember being taxed in any way, except I didn’t like everyone dropping in so much (as people often do when they know you’re going to die soon). I would cry after they left, because it hurt my husband SO much when people would tell him how bad they were going to feel when he was gone. He would be in tears by the time most left (they would leave feeling better –”they got to tell Dave everything they wanted to”) and it would take me an hour or more to calm him down. People when they are dying do become more and more fragile. I felt like people were stealing my time away from my husband too. Now it’s 4 months later, and no one calls, and no one asks..it hurts awfully. I am very much afraid of cancer.

Dave’s Legacy: They say that people die the way they live. It’s true. My husband who was very kind in life, was even more so in death. An hour before he died, he thanked each one of us (son, daughter, daughter-in-law and wife) for taking care of him. He tried to do as much for himself as he could, and NEVER complained. I don’t know if I could ever be that good, but now I’ve seen an example. Also, he loved the Lord, right to the end.

Living with Loss: My life has changed in every way — I don’t know what to do with each day. Life seems less meaningful right now. My anchor is gone, and I am drifting aimlessly. Weekends are long, nights are long, eating is difficult, holidays are long, it’s hard to pay attention sometimes, it’s hard to be patient. My pets have helped me immensely — sometimes they are the only reason to get up for. My faith has helped me too; I know that God has a plan. I don’t have to understand it, just accept it, and I do. I don’t believe that I have unresolved items about my husband’s death. I do miss my husband very much, I hate being alone, I wish he was here, I know he’s not coming back, I know I’ll figure this all out later, in time. I know I took very good care of him, and no one will know what some of those long nights looked like for Dave and I — when he couldn’t quit coughing until he finally coughed up all kinds of blood, how scared we were, how much we cried, and how much we prayed.

Advice for other Patients and Caregivers: My advice for others: Do What YOU feel is the right thing to do — don’t be guilt tripped into anything by people who mean well but don’t have a clue.. Do seek alternative therapies for comfort measures — do try to be comfortable, like massage therapy. Physical pleasure helps. Don’t make the person with cancer feel like any less of a person, like any less of a man or woman, any less appealing. Support them with as much love as you can give. Support what THEY want to do. Be sensitive to what they cannot do for themselves, and DO IT FOR THEM! Bone cancer hurts, physically. Remember that, keep heating pads and ice packs around for comfort. Learn to give a massage, not a painful one, but a calming one. Take the time to just sit and be together as much as you can. You may need to draw on those times later.

On Grief: You may pick up that today is not a very good day for me. This seems to be a backslidden day– just a reminder that we don’t control grief, I think it controls us. My husband’s birthday would be tomorrow, Saturday, first day of a 3 day holiday. I thought I was ready, haven’t been crying for nearly 2 weeks now, and feel like I am ready to move forward. But today says to me to be patient, it will be a long weekend.

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.” (author unknown)