Just a Few Things I Learned While Dealing With My Husband's Cancer

Note: Many people have been coming to my blog to find info about Lynn Kovach. This blog post is not about her, but is dedicated to her. Lynn's Obituatry:

http://southvalleyobits.com/classifieds/xcCPViewItem.asp?ID=332001
My heart and prayers go out to the Kovach family.

Today I wanted to write about either The Carmel/Monterey Concourse events last August (which was an amazing eclectic mix of amazing cars including priceless Ferraris and Lamborghinis). Or I wanted to write about or recent trip down to Cambria and San Simon, which included an evening tour of Christmas-trimmed Hearst Castle. But after the sudden loss of a friend yesterday to cancer, I feel an obligation to share some of my feelings about dealing with this horrible, horrible disease. So, if you want to bow out now, and catch me next time, I promise my next post will lighter and more entertaining. I am hoping that by sharing what helped me cope during the nine month battle we had with my husband's cancer, it might provide some comfort to others that are fighting this frightening disease.

Before I go any further, I want to say my husband is now in remission! He has to be screened every three months, since the type of cancer he had has a high rate of reoccurrence. His last screening right before Christmas was cancer free :-) Such a nice change from where we were a year and a half ago. Here is a bit about our journey--

On September 4th, 2009, I posted on my Facebook wall, “Feels like my whole world just turned upside down. Unfortunately, the letter "C" still looks like a "C" even upside down...” The words from the Urologist earlier that day, “Your husband has bladder cancer”, felt like someone had physically punched me in the stomach. It hurt to breathe—because breathing made me feel alive, and being alive made me have to deal with the cancer.

My sweet brother-in-law tried to cheer me up, by emailing, “For me, the letter C stands for cookies. And I have always liked cookies.” I appreciated his attempt at humor and diversion. I was scared the following weeks, months, and possibly years, the word that began with the letter “C” would be a dark unwelcomed guest in my household. I wanted to run away from all the pain cancer brought into our family. But through the darkness I had people reach out to me, and give me the comfort and strength I needed to keep going and make it through that hard time in my life. I feel an obligation to pass it forward, to share a bit of what I learned along my journey. And I want you to know for me, the letter “C” now stands for “CURE!”

To those of you who are facing this awful disease, or have a loved one that is, I want you to know my heart goes out to you for it is a difficult journey that lies ahead. I send you my strength, prayers, and positive energy. I hope something that I say here will help you. If it doesn’t seem to apply, or you have heard it before—just skim away! I’m sending this with the best of intentions in hopes of providing comfort and support.

When my hubby was first diagnosed with cancer, we didn’t know how serious it was, or what stage he had. My mind ran away with me and I dwelt in the land of “What Ifs”. What if it had spread to his kidneys? What if I had to support our family? What if he died? WHAT IF . . . ?!” I shared this with a good friend of mine one day, and she looked me right in the eyes and said, “What if NOTHING? What if all things you are worrying about never happen? Or, WHAT IF you use all of your energy on worrying today, instead of living today?” I knew she was right, it was better not to let today be stolen by worries. I learned to live in the moment. And, I am blessed to say, most of the things I had worried about never happened.

I found I felt the best when I surrounded myself with positive people. Fighting cancer seemed to take as much mental energy as it did physical energy. Positive and calm people gave me strength; negative people did just the opposite. It is almost a tangible feeling during such a time of chaos. It is okay to be selfish during this time!

Keep in mind cancer does not play fair. It doesn't go by any rules. Different people respond differently to the disease as well as the treatment. Learn to cherish every good nanosecond of life!

Here are a few quotes which were given to me, that gave me comfort and strength. I have a book I write all of my favorite quotes in, and I often would refer to these quotes when I felt myself getting discouraged (I won’t include scriptures, since I know many of you are probably more familiar with them than I!):

“Give thanks, have faith, keep going!”
–Pierce Brosnan (Don’t get stuck in the cancer—everyday keep doing and thinking about other things.)

“Hope is always an option, as well as a strategy!”
–by ME! (Sometimes you have to really work at having hope—but it is always an option. Even if it is just the hope of having a feeling of “peace”.)

“We get what we focus upon . . . Every thought is a prayer”

–Gill Edwards

“Sometimes God calms the storm, other times he lets the storm rage, and calms His Child.”

“You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.”

“There are two big forces at work, external and internal. We have very little control over external forces such as tornadoes, earthquakes, floods, disasters, illness and pain. What really matters is the internal force. How do I respond to those disasters? Over that I have complete control.”

–Leo Buscaglia

“God usually answers our prayers--not by lifting the burdens and tribulations--but rather by bolstering our capacity to endure them.”

–Brent L. Top

And lastly, take this one with a grain of salt and a sense of humor:
“When you are going through Hell . . . don’t stop!”

Cancer is a rollercoaster ride. It is unpredictable. At one time my husband's cancer was going in a very negative direction, he was not responding to treatment and the doctor scheduled surgery to remove his bladder (last July.) A few weeks before surgery, he had a minor surgery to take more biopsies. The doctor said the lining of the bladder looked raw and red, like it was still infected with cancer. Miraculously, the biopsies came back cancer free. The redness had been a leftover symptom from the BCG treatments. He has had two more cancer screenings since then, and they have both come back negative. We feel like it was a miracle. If you have cancer, or have a loved one battling cancer, I wish a miracle for you too! I will never stop hoping and praying for a cure.

(This post is dedicated to my friend Lynn Kovach who lost her battle with cancer just yesterday.)

The following photos were taken during my husband's cancer treatments at Stanford Cancer Center. The crazy thing, he looked so well, but was so very sick--

Stanford University Medical Center in Palo Alto, California.

Only a few doors down was the clinic where Patrick Swayze had been receiving treatments a few months earlier.

Hubby checking in for one of the fourteen weekly BCG treatments he had to fight bladder cancer.

Me, the designated driver, waiting while my husband had treatment. No photos of him after treatment, he looked too sick. But, it was all necessary and worth it.

The musicians I saw every time we went to the cancer center. They were located right by the clinics where all of the cancer patience’s received their treatments. Their music made you feel like you were in a calm, safe place. Stanford Cancer Center was a wonderful place for my husband to be treated. We had a very positive experience and wonderful doctor!

Life's Switchbacks

I experienced driving on my first switchback when I was a very young child and my family spent the day in the nearby Zion National Park. Going to the park always included a drive through the Zion-Mt Carmel Tunnel. This tunnel holds a special meaning to my family, because my father helped build it when he was a teenager. Upon its completion in 1930, the 1.1 mile long tunnel was the longest tunnel of its type in the United States and was considered an engineering marvel of its time.

Unfortunately, to enter the tunnel from the Westside, you have to drive through a series of switchbacks, a zigzag road arranged for climbing the steep grade. I recall the hairpin turns as we drove up the road, the upper road looping very closely at times to the road we had driven on below.

I have been thinking of those switchbacks in Zion National Park lately, because I feel like the road of life can also contain switchbacks. A hairpin turn symbolizing a trial and the road below symbolizing one’s past.

The current “life’s switchback” I am experiencing is my husband’s fight with cancer, reminding me of my Grandmother Florence Shamo’s fight with tuberculosis. Her road seems so very close to mine right now--I can almost feel her presence. Let me explain the similarity. I’ll begin by telling you of the unforeseen hairpin turn the road in her life took; here is her story.

One harsh winter day in Mandan North Dakota, Florence was bringing her horses home from town when a blizzard hit. The storm caught her by surprise and she soon found herself surrounded by a white-out, where the snow was so thick she couldn’t find her way home. She stood in the raging storm while holding desperately onto the horses until the blizzard passed. At twenty-six years of age, she had grown up quickly, marrying her sweetheart at the age of sixteen and having four beautiful children within a short period of time. So when her exposure from the cold developed into the racking cough of consumption, her devoted husband did all that he could to save her. The doctor felt her only hope was to move to the sunny dry climate of Arizona. Unfortunately her beautiful frail body couldn’t handle the long journey. Upon reaching Hurricane, Utah with her husband and young family, she could travel no further. She succumbed to Tuberculosis in 1918, while only twenty-eight years old. A mere three years later, an effective treatment was dicovered for this horrible disease.

I am now leaving the hairpin turn of my Grandmother’s experience behind and am moving on to my own. In September, 2009, my husband Burke was diagnosed with Bladder Cancer. The current most successful treatment for this type of cancer is Bacillus Calmette-Guerin (BCG). BCG is also used in some countries as a vaccine to provide protection against tuberculosis (TB). Here is the clincher: my husband is being treated at Stanford Cancer Center with the same medicine that could have saved my Grandmother Florence’s life.

I wish it could have been different for my Grandmother. I have hopes it will be different for my husband. As I look at this “life’s switchback”, I am grateful to live during a time where technology exists to cure diseases which killed people just a generation ago. Seeing that a cure was found for Tuberculosis gives me hope a cure for cancer can also be found.

Burke goes in for his biopsy surgery tomorrow to see if the fourteen weeks of BCG Treatment was successful. Of course, prayers, good wishes, chants, coins in the fountain, etc. are welcome!

Have you ever experienced “life’s switchbacks’? I would love to hear if you have!

The Winds of Change

I awoke to a cloudy, windy day. I don’t like the winds, I never have—a bit ironic for someone that was raised in a town called
“Hurricane”. I feel like the unruly gusts of air leave behind an echoing hollowness of unrest. As though they threaten to blow away all that I know and love.

The tempest is not only outside my bedroom window, it seems to have crept inside me--when I wasn’t looking. I thought I was being so strong lately, but the winds of change have caught me by surprise, and are knocking down all of the walls that I have built to keep my life safe and peaceful.

The first big gale hit earlier this week. Burke admitted that he has still been having symptoms his cancer is there, and that the 14 weeks of treatments have not worked. This reality has swept away my hopes that life could go back to normal very soon. Burke has already scheduled his bladder removal surgery for May.

The force of this emotional cyclone of cancer has taken its toll on our family and I have tried to put my head down and keep moving forward through this storm. As a friend of mine put it more precisely with a quote she shared with me, “When going through Hell, don’t stop!” I have tried not to “stop” and wallow in self-pity while dealing with my husband’s cancer.

I thought I was doing pretty well forging through life's storms, until the force of another squall hit today. Burke’s boss called and told him that one of the people in Burke’s group at work will have to be laid-off. There are only four people in Burke’s group. He wanted to give Burke the opportunity to transfer within the company to Sterling Heights, Michigan. Wow, I don’t know how I would ever survive a winter there, after living in sunny California for the last 28 years. How could I leave the place I call home, a place I love so dearly? Also, how could we leave Stanford Hospital where he has been receiving treatment? And, if Burke were to be laid-off, who would hire someone who has cancer?

It is now very late at night. I can’t hear the wind outside anymore. I am glad it has stopped and left behind the stillness of peace and quite in the darkness. I hope the storms of my life will also calm down soon, very soon.