Shell here!

Jay and I have been dedicating a lot of time to writing our book. Reliving the cancer journey with our writing has been a little healing, but quite exhausting some days. Since it has been so draining to write our story, we have not had the energy to write in our blog. We took a couple days off to nurture our mental health and we are back to share stories here with you. I thought I would share some of the thoughts and experiences I have been reliving from the cancer journey.

Our book is going to be about our cancer journey, and we are writing from both of our perspectives, just like we do here on our blog. We thought it would be interesting to share what our cancer journey looked like from 42-year-old and 12-year-old perspectives. We were walking the same journey but we both saw it differently.

As we write and relive each moment of the cancer journey, the same question keeps popping up in my mind. As I see or express the events, I stand back and say to myself constantly, how did I survive all of this? Art obviously did not survive, but how did I?

As I look back, I find myself questioning my survival skills. I was 42 years old and yes, I was not the one who had cancer, but I was so busy taking care of everyone else that I neglected my own self-care for fifteen months. I rarely slept and when I did, I slept with one ear open so I could be by Art’s side at any moment. I developed high blood pressure during the course of this cancer journey. My cholesterol was up and I became borderline diabetic. After he died, I gained a lot of weight and my body was falling apart. I learned after he died that my body was not in a good state of well-being. When I finally took a moment to feel my body, it was screaming at me. My body was tired and neglected, and I finally broke down and went to the doctor for a check-up.

Again the question arises: I was taking excellent care of everyone else while ignoring my body and its needs, so how did my body survive fifteen months of neglect? How did I not just stroke out like my father during this time? My blood pressure was so high that it was quite a possibility.

Our life turned upside down and was torn apart in a matter of days. It felt like overnight to be honest. One minute we were fine, and the next minute we were deep in the trenches of fighting cancer. It was a battle for all three of us. Art fought an awfully long and hard fight. Jay fought her emotions and checked out. I fought so hard to make our lives as normal as possible in an impossible situation.

I had to fight with doctors over his care. I had to fight and beg Art to do what he needed to do to fight. Most of the time he didn’t want to and yes, most of the time, he was a complicated patient. He was very stubborn. He was sick and felt horrible most of the time. I had to take care of our home, run errands, make food, do laundry, take care of our pets, and get our daughter to musical theatre rehearsal and church activities. I had to keep friends and family informed about what was happening with Art’s care and treatments. Plus, I still had to do the grocery shopping and pay the bills. Anytime I did have to leave, I had to find someone (which was almost always my parents) to keep an eye on Jay and Art. We never knew when he would get sick and need urgent care or 911, so I never felt right living him alone. There were days when he did go to work so Jay and I were able to run the errands, but they were getting further and further apart.

Before cancer destroyed our home, I was always a planner. I had always been a planner and I always had things scheduled in a certain order. If my plans were abruptly changed, I would freak out. It was ridiculously hard for me in the beginning of the cancer journey to learn that my “planning” had to go. I could not plan anything, not even in the next moment. I could have a list of what I needed to do, knowing full well that it may not happen. I had to learn to adapt and to be able to change, and this was extremely hard for me. It was a stressful time for the three of us. Living in the cancer, adapting to change and struggling with it, all while thinking in the back of my mind: Is Art going to die today?

Plus, if all that was not enough, during the entire cancer journey his extended family was a complete nightmare. There were extremely unhelpful and always caused chaos and drama. It was hell.

We had my parents and a few good friends that helped us along the way. As I re-live this, I still ask myself, how did I survive all of this?  I honestly do not know, nor do I pretend to have the answers. I remember several sob fests in the shower at night. I remember that I would forget to eat. I was so busy begging Art to eat and making sure Jay had food that I myself would forget to eat. I remember not being able to sleep at all. Every night I slept with one ear open so I could fly out of bed like a ninja to help Art when he would have a vomit attack. These attacks were almost nightly.

We did have some good moments during all of this. But it always seems like the bad ones overshadow the good ones.

Once Art started to get regular chemo treatments and we learned how to adapt, we started a new routine that worked for us. Yet, we still knew in the back of our minds that at any moment disaster could erupt. Living in fight or flight for fifteen months took a toll on all three of us. So, as I sit here sharing some details and with tears forming behind my eyes, how did I survive all of this?

I know I am a strong woman. I know my strength and feisty attitude got me through some of it. But what I see and feel when I revisit it all… I see a woman who was scared out of her mind, fighting for her husband to live with every fiber in her soul. I see a woman who was working hard to help her daughter survive the impossible. That is what I see: a tired, wounded, scared women who did what she had to do to survive. Yet I still wonder, how did I survive it all?

Emotionally and physically, I was a hot mess the first year after his death. I refused to show anyone, and I refused to share with anyone what I was feeling and thinking. Instead, I did what I am good at — I ran away. I blocked people off my phone, ignored their calls, threw away their letters and left. Maybe shutting people out was not the correct thing to do, but I was so tired. I couldn’t console one other person. I was dying inside, and people were crying around me and giving me the sad look with the head tilt. People were telling me what to do, how to act and how to raise my daughter. I grabbed my daughter and hopped on many planes and escaped from them all.

I did not want to be around people, and I did not want to nurture other people’s grief over my husband. I just spent fifteen months taking care of others; it was my turn to take care of me. For an entire year my daughter and I traveled the world. We would come home long enough to take care of the house and our pets, and once it was too much to be in the home where my husband died, we left. I have no regrets! I am grateful Jay and I took this time to nurture ourselves and to be alone in our grief. I have learned that my natural instinct through all of this was to run away.

Trust me, when Art first became sick, I did want to run away. But I didn’t. I think that right there speaks volumes into the type of women I am. I stayed, I endured, I fought for his care, and survived the unimaginable. 

Jay and I always joke around that if I were to meet another man and he were to become sick, I would bolt like Forest Gump. I have zero desire to take care of another man in my lifetime here on earth. I did it, I survived it, and I am done.

Now it is my turn to take care of me, nurture my grief, and understand what I have lived through. Time to rebuild. Time to grow and create a new life for myself. That is exactly what I am doing and have been doing for the last six years. It may not be perfect, and I screw up along the way, but that is okay because it is my life now. I love Art with all my heart, and I grieve for him every second of every day. The hole in my heart will forever be there. I miss our old life very much. I am grateful for my journey and the things it has taught me along the way. I have learned I am more than Art’s widow, and that is when this journey changed for me. I am more than Art’s widow!

How did I survive? I don’t have all the answers, but what I do know is that here I am six years later standing in awe. I’m standing in awe looking back at the worst time of my life, our cancer journey, and I survived. I survived!!!

Aloha and gratitude,

Jay and Shell