Heather and I were
riding that euphoric high that comes after the birth of a child. That joy was
short-lived. I recall feeling completely uprooted and disconnected from my own
reality with that sudden shift of emotions that came as I stood in the room as
the doctors gave my wife and the mesothelioma diagnosis. My wife sat in her street
clothes with tears streaming down her face. I felt completely unprepared and
overwhelmed by the uncertainty of her future and of our future. The doctor
immediately started talking about medical decisions we had to make. As the
months progressed, I never really felt ready to make any of the decisions we
were forced to make. Somehow these decisions forced us to stay grounded in
reality.
During those first few weeks after the diagnosis, I was a ball
of emotions. I struggled internally with my own fears and even outright rage
over this unexpected turn of events. I tried to hide my feelings from my wife,
as I attempted to be the strong foundation I knew she desperately needed. Yet
when I was comforted, consoled or encouraged from family, friends, and doctors
or nurses, I just let it all out. Several times, I unloaded a stream of
profanities at those who were only trying to help, which added guilt to the
emotions I was feeling.
In addition to these emotions were the physical
responsibilities. As a parent with an infant and a full-time job, I had plenty
on my plate already. Then we had doctor appointments, my own medical research,
travel arrangements and more. I have never been one to accept help from others,
but I accepted it now. I had no other choice. Thankfully, offers for help were
plentiful.
Perhaps the darkest point for me during this time was after my
wife’s surgery. I had to leave her in Boston
to recover from surgery with her parents, and my in-laws kept our baby daughter
with them, too. She was coping with chemo and radiation treatments, and I was
alone, home in Minnesota ,
working. Our bills were mounting, and I had no choice but to keep working so we
could continue. I worked so much trying to keep us afloat financially that I
only had time to visit her once over XX months. This visit included an 11-hour
drive in a snowstorm that afforded me only about 24 hours to be with my wife
and daughter. I felt so alone during this time and wanted nothing more than to
be with them.
As difficult as that time was, I tried to stay grounded in the
reality of doing what needed to be done. It’s always easier to look at life in
the rear view mirror. Looking back, I do wish we hadn’t gotten that diagnosis,
but I don’t regret any of the subsequent decisions we made. This was a time of
change and growth for me personally, as I learned to accept what cannot change
as well as to accept help from others. I found comfort in making choices that
would affect our future.
Today, my gratitude for the experience is exceeded only by the
gratitude that my wife is now mesothelioma-free. To read more about our journey and/or follow Heather's blog.
Written by Cameron Von St. James, Caregiver
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