It Started with An Earthquake: A Cancer Journey
I t S t a r t e d w i t h A n E a r t h q u a k e
Thursday, January 3, 2013, 5 am.
I am awakened out of a deep sleep to the sound of Lou’s voice, rather urgent. The room wasn’t shaking. It couldn’t be an earthquake. “Babe, you need to wake up. We’ve got a problem. I think you need to go to the hospital with me. I am coughing up blood. “
I jumped out of bed in a hurry and thought: “Ok, let’s go see what’s going on. Probably nothing, but you have to check. What did I have going on today? It was too early to call in to work. Wonder how long they will keep us?”
So began the terrible journey that would forever change our world.
… In the ER on a gurney for two days. Blood Tests, IV’s for an infection, CAT Scans of the chest, the head, the throat, the abdomen, then more specialized tests of the lungs. They were able to get in touch with the lung specialist who was never in this area this time of the week. He immediately came to the hospital. He ordered a bronchoscopy of the upper right lobe of the lung and hung around after to evaluate and report for Lou and I and our daughter, April.
What he said wasn’t good. They couldn’t even see into the upper right lobe. What had been diagnosed as pneumonia in December was a huge mass. It completely filled the lobe and was growing out into the bronchial tubes. He was surprised there hadn’t been a lot more evacuated blood.
By the middle of the first day, Lou asked the radiologist and the lung specialist if it was cancer and both said “Yes”. So, there we had it.
Photo Courtesy of iStock/Madjuszka
Logic set in quickly. Lou could live just fine without one lung or partial lung. I used to work for Thoracic and Vascular Surgeons. I had met lots of patients who did great on one lung.
The first step into grief began in that Kaiser Hospital on Sand Canyon. For me, it was shock. It was impossible to wrap my head around this. I was a problem solver and one who comforts and consoles. I pray for others all the time with great confidence that God will hear and take care of their every need. This was not a problem with an obvious solution and there were no shots for me to call.
I needed comforting right now as much as I needed to comfort. And I clearly didn’t understand a thing that was happening. I am too intelligent for empty platitudes and so was Lou. I would not do that. We had to know more.
We were admitted to the hospital, but couldn’t be moved because there were no beds available. We were 14 down on the list and that proved to be a wait that never turned into a bed. The best they could do was locate a spare gurney for me about 4 a.m. so I could lay my exhausted body horizontal. I was close enough that we could hold hands, in a room too bright and noisy to sleep, with all the monitors beeping and IV’s of strong medicines needing changing every hour or so. I cried most of that night, silently so as not to disturb Lou. I found out later he heard it all and was crying too, but for me, not for himself.
Photo Courtesy of iStock/Nico_Campo
I knew, without a doubt, we would not be alone in this. Looking back, God never left us for a moment. Friends and family, even strangers came in tight around the edges. But right there, in that ER, it was literally a dark night of the soul and it wasn’t shaped like anything that remotely fit with our plans for the future.
So began my journey of grief. It was an earthquake. …about a 9.5 to be exact. It literally shook my world and the rubble that remained around me was just starting to be sifted through…
Grief and loss are part of the human dilemma and I will continue to tell my story in posts to come, but now I want to hear from you:
For those of you who have faced shocks and life-changing moments like these, how did you handle the news?
Do you recall that first moment when you got your bad news? What was your first reaction?
58 Comments
Anne,
Thank you for sharing this intimate recount of the events and journey with Lou. I’m continually amazed and in awe of your strength and courage as you go through this journey. It is a true testament of your faith.
I’ve had a couple of major life altering moments; when my mother was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor on Mother’s Day and Matthew’s death. Heartache is all I can say. To this day, it still hurts. As I have told many who have lost a loved one, you will never get over the loss but you will get through it. Some days will be better than others. Faith, Family and Friends will lift you up and carry your through.
We will never forget Lou and will always be there for you on your journey.
Thanks again for sharing. Love,
Fitz
Fitz
Thank you for the understanding and love you have shown on the days I do falter. I will never forget the time of seeing you guys visiting with Lou and listening to him. It wasn’t a cursory “In and out” visit. You let him talk and boy did he ever that day. He was exhausted after and said almost nothing for several days, but he had things he wanted to say and I was grateful you guys were there and listening.
I know that the loss of your Mom and shock of losing little Matthew will impact you always. And you are right. Some things we just get through, but it gives us something with which to relate to others.
I am glad I have you in my daily world. Thank God for it, in fact. Love, Anne
Anne –
I am proud of you for sharing you story & journey. I firmly believe there is power in sharing our journeys in good time and in difficult times. The journey should never have an ending, with ceremonies, rituals, prayers, reflections, writing in journals/blogs the relationship is everlasting. I am grateful that you are willing to allow us to be a part of this beautiful journey.
When Matthew died it hit me like no other event in my life. I will never forget that day the events that took place. I am still grieving over his death, my life has continually transformed from his life & death. Matthew has taught me more about life and death more than anyone person. Imagine a child of such a young age has such an impact on me. I look forward to meeting him again, i continue to look for lessons he keeps teaching me.
Once again thank you for sharing your life with me, Lou’s life will always have significant impact on me. I am grateful that we became friends! I love you dearly, XOXO
Neil
Lou will never die in my heart and mind. His presence remains around me. I know what he would say on most subjects and situations if I stop to think about it. So you are right, there will be no ending. It will continue, maybe not for others, but it will for me.
I just read an amazing story called “Heaven is for Real” about a 4 year old who died and came back. It gives great insight into the little ones who die young and are waiting for us to join them some day.
I am thankful I have you all in my life. People don’t understand what working at a Mortuary can be like. It has been the best blessing I can imagine. People here get it and it helps in the healing process. So does the blog. I love you. xoxo
Annie,
There are certain moments in our lives that change us forever. Hearing that I was diagnosed with lymphoma/cancer was certainly one of those moments for me. Like you, there was shock, disbelief (This happens to other people not me or my loved ones) terror, sadness and concern for family. One of the images that came to my mind Anne was of Lou on his hospital bed in your house. I’m still in the middle of my journey but my prognosis and outcome are extremely favorable and I feel so fortunate for that. The ripple effect of such news is amazing, the love and support I felt and feel from family and friends has been incredible. No way my attitude would be what it is (And it is not always perfect) without this love and support. Much like your loving husband my thoughts went immediately to my family and my children. My biggest concern was and still is for them. I miss Lou and know your journey continues everyday. One of the most powerful moments was when we were at your home and Jeff asked Lou what we could pray for to help him. Without flinching in a very low voice he says “Pray for my Annie” not himself but for you! I love you and hope you regain the peace you deserve in this live.
Love,
Chuck
Chuck
I admit, when I first heard about your lymphoma, I had a sudden fear that we were going to have to do this again. What a relief and blessing to know you are most likely going to come out of this clear and whole.
God allows testings to see what we are made of and to make us better people. You are right. Everyone is important but when it comes to this stuff, the family you have around you and might possibly have to leave becomes the total reason for every breath.
Lou’s videos to me were short, but filled with concern for me. I am so thankful you and the other owners made time for Lou. He got a lot of peace out of that. He always protected me and I guess he was passing the mantle to you four. Thanks for being there. I love you back.
My prayers have not ceased for you and won’t, until this is past and you once again smell like the living.
Ann with an “e”,
I love you dearly and am so grateful that you are giving us a look inside of this most difficult chapter in yours and Lou’s life. Your vulnerability and transparency as you lived through Lou’s illness, death and now the new reality of life without him is so important for us to hear and share together. I pray comfort for you even as you comfort others. I pray wholeness of heart for you even though its broken.
Jeff
Jeff
I accept your prayers and your comfort. I am naturally a happy person. It has been difficult, but I try to find some in every day. Everything is still overwhelming. I am squared away at work, but still have not mastered home. Writing is healing. We decided most everything together. Now, I have to decide things alone, with prayer. I am so grateful for what we had. So many have settled for much less.
“I cried most of that night, silently so as not to disturb Lou. I found out later he heard it all and was crying too, but for me, not for himself.”
Anne, those two sentences are heartbreaking and yet so romantic and a true testament to the love you both shared for each other. Even though I never got the chance to meet Lou, I am glad I was able to participate in his visitation, I knew then that he was well loved by you and all of the family and friends who came and spoke so highly of him. Thank you for sharing your story, it is so well written and I look forward to the continuation of it, I hope you find it healing as well to put it in to words. <3
Jenn
The sentence you highlighted epitomizes my life with Lou for 47 years. He was so concerned over the effect his illness would have on me, the toll it would take as I tried to fix it, and the ultimate requirement that I learn to take on everything he always took care of and handle it all without him. I have learned to accept the misery when it shows up and embrace, not stuff it. That seems to allow me to have moments of laughter, yes even joy, when that shows up too.
Thank you for taking time to read and comment. It means a lot.