Meagan has aways been a leading edge kind of person. Whether it be fashion (best dressed in high school) or design or relationships. She has redefined how I view relationships, bringing huge doses of warmth, energy and empathy to many. In our relationship she was always fearless, bringing up topics and issues she felt we had to address. Our house has been a canvas for her personal style and self-expression and her desire to break out of the mold. She has been passionate in her pursuit of family traditions and bringing as many people around her during the holidays as she could.
All this is context for ANOTHER ground-breaking discussion this morning. Talk about thin ice and unbroken ground. It caught me completely off-guard. We started talking about Thanksgiving and how we'd pull it off the way she wants, given her limitations. I reminded her of the volunteers who offered to help and not just participate. That led to a discussion about traditions and she talked about her dear departed grandma's cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning and how Meagan has made them in our household and she wanted to make them this year with my help, which I willingly agreed to do. Then the surreal hit.
She got very teary and started talking about and worrying about and becoming very sad about what would happen after she is gone. Would we (the boys and I) make her grandma's cinnamon rolls? Would we get rid of all the colorful furniture and buy brown Pottery Barn furniture? Would we paint our beautiful walls beige and white? Would we stop hosting (extended) family holiday celebrations? Et cetera.
Wow!
I understand at some level the concern - would we carry on traditions and retain her personal imprint on our house and in our lives so we continue to remember her and who she was. She's concerned we don't value her uniqueness and the special elements she has brought to our lives and that with her passing, we'd erase those, and end up erasing our memory of her.
Naturally, I reassured her as best I could, given I hadn't even thought about this. She admitted that the medications might be driving a lot of the emotion and thoughts. But it was a very poignant conversation and the deep fear and concern about carrying her legacy forward and remembering her was evident. I just need to add another element to my cabana boy duties - convincing this remarkable woman that she will never be forgotten and that her legacy and traditions will carry on.
A field guide for men who are supporting their wife or significant other in becoming free of cancer. Especially when they are hit by a stroke in mid-treatment. I outline the process and experiences, and offer tips and hints for others. My dear wife, Meagan, died from Stage 4 melanoma cancer.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
No Cancer After 5
Once you have a metastatic cancer (Stage 4 - meaning it has spread and can only be eliminated by systemic treatment - i.e., whole body chemotherapy or biological therapy - not spot treatment such as surgical removal or radiation of a tumor), especially one like melanoma that does not have a reliable and relatively predictable treatment path to being NED (no evidence of disease), cancer does sort of become a 24x7, 7 day a week discussion. It may be a discussion in your own head, it may be in your dreams, or it may be between the two of you. As a cabana boy, it is constantly on my mind. I mean, I worry about other things too, like the boys. Life goes on, you still have to pay the bills and pick up dog poop. But it's never away from your mind. When I'm with Meagan it often becomes a topic - spoken or unspoken. Even the amazing rituals we have adopted, like our matcha tea in the morning, as lovely as they are, have a root cause in the cancer.
Friday, February 4, 2011
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