My Everything.

I do not even know where to begin.  It seems like an eternity has passed since I last wrote.  As many of you know, I write this blog, not just for friends and family, but for the girls.  To that end, I will step back in time to recap the past month. 

During the second week of November, Kevin was still having a hard time catching his breath and his back pain had worsened.  We had a visit with the radiation oncologist on a Friday afternoon, November 9^th, to see if there was anything that could be done.  The doctor revealed to us what the medical oncologist had subtly alluded to.  The cancer in Kevin’s body had grown very aggressively.  He stated that we were in a very different situation now.  We were no longer treating the cancer, but rather the symptoms.  He indicated that there was at least one tumor on his spine.  He offered the option of radiating the tumors near Kevin’s lungs and airway to keep things open and ease his breathing. 

We were devastated with the news.  I spoke with the girls over that weekend and let them know that circumstances had changed.  Kevin and I had promised them from the very beginning that they would be the first to know when things changed.  There were lots of questions and lots of tears.  I reassured them that we still had a few more things to try and as we have learned over the years, nothing happens too fast.  Boy was I about to be proven wrong.  The following Monday, Kevin began what was to be 13 days of radiation treatment. 

During the wee hours of the morning that Friday, November 16^th, Kevin woke me up.  He was experiencing numbness from his chest down.  His legs were not cooperating.  We debated about what we should do.  Our worst fear was that the numbness would creep into his chest and affect his breathing.  After some discussion, we called Terrell to the house, and Kevin and I left for the hospital.  With the movement it took to get into the vehicle, Kevin started to regain some feeling and began to vomit incessantly.  Once at the hospital, they were able to get him stabilized, but thought it best to admit him.  Once he was admitted, we spoke to the inpatient oncologist, who reiterated how aggressive the cancer had gotten. 

Kevin and I began discussing the hospice option.  We were fortunate that Kevin’s medical oncologist was the doctor doing rounds that weekend, so we had several very long conversations with him.  They believed that it was likely the cancer had gone into Kevin’s brain and/or spinal fluid, an MRI would be necessary to determine that.  Kevin asked a lot of ‘what-if’s’.  At the end of the day, the treatment options provided little additional time with a lot of risks.  After much thought, prayer and discussion, Kevin thought it best to leave well enough alone.  He did not want to know the answers, as the treatment options were not worth the risk to him.  He wanted to go home and be with his daughters and family.  At that time, we started interviewing hospice agencies. 

Kevin went home on hospice the following Monday, November 20^th.  He was able to walk into our home with the assistance of a walker.  By Tuesday morning, he had lost all function of his lower body from his chest down.  We spent many hours talking, taking care of each other, and adjusting to what we thought was our new normal.  Sidney became his nurse nightingale.  Kendall entertained him with her wit and stories.  Our friends brought us all of our favorite Thanksgiving side dishes.  My mom worked all day in the kitchen, while the girls helped prepare the table for a beautiful Thanksgiving Day.  My sister never left my side.  She flew into town the day Kevin went into the emergency room and just recently left.  She has truly been our rock.  Kevin trusted her with his everything.  She helped us every step of the way. 

We enjoyed an amazing heartfelt Thanksgiving dinner.  Kevin slept very well that night.  Prior to that night, he had been calling me in 2-3 times a night for various things.  That night I woke up at 2am, freaked out because he had not called.  I went to check on him, and he was sleeping soundly.  I woke him up.  He said he was doing well.  We chatted.  He told me to go back to bed.  I waited until he was back to sleep before going to bed.  The next morning was typical.  At about 8:30ish, he received a text that his physical therapist was on his way to the house.  He and I set about getting him ready.  In the middle of our doing so, he asked for a minute.  I reached for his oxygen, assuming that is what he might need.  It was then that he took his last breaths.  There was no pain.  There was no suffering.  It was shockingly fast.  Our family spent a very special morning with him, both before and after he passed away.  The girls were able to say goodbye to their daddy one last time.  I will always cherish those moments. 

My mom worked as an oncology nurse for seven years.  She said that she had never witnessed such a fast, peaceful passing.  For that, I am thankful.

 

As I am writing this and reflecting on the past month, the following passage comes to mind:

 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

 

I truly feel as if I have lived a lifetime in a few short weeks.  I have loved more fiercely than I have ever loved.  I have cried more tears than I have ever cried.  I have even laughed harder than I may have ever laughed.  Kevin was my soul mate.  For all of our ups and downs, that 21 years of marriage will most definitely bring, he was the calm to my storm.  I will miss him!