Every Day is Valentine’s Day

Another Valentine’s Day with my sweetie and today’s weather forecast is for snow!  To be honest, every day is Valentine’s day with my sweetie.  But on Valentine’s Day 12 years ago, I was afraid it could be my last with this man I cherish each and every day.  You see on February 10, 2009, just nine months after our wedding, Keith got the call that he had cancer.  For all of you out there that have ever been the recipient of those words, you know everything in your world stops cold when you hear them.  What went from a swollen lymph node on his neck, definitely not cancer said the doctor, to 10 days of antibiotics followed by a needle biopsy, it WAS CANCER.

I have always felt from the moment Keith and I met that he was my gift from God.  Why would God put us together only to take it away?  That was a huge question in my mind.  As the wife of someone with cancer, I can only tell you how it was for me. I cannot begin to fathom how difficult it was for my husband.

On a beautiful, unusually warm day here in Southern Oklahoma in February of 2009, I had driven my mother to the doctor in Texas.  Driving home on I-35 just 40 miles away from home I get a call from my husband.  “The doctor just called.  I have cancer,” he said.   I am trying to stay calm, but it’s not easy.  My throat went dry, tears sprang to my eyes and I thought I was going to throw up.  He asked where I was and I told him I could be home in 30 minutes.  We agreed to meet at the house.  My mind raced and all I could think of is why him. 

I met my husband at home and we sat together on the couch as storm clouds were growing outside.  The thunder boomed and the lighting cracked across the sky.  It felt as if my anger for this situation was manifesting outside.  The local doctor had really not given us much information about anything.  What were we supposed to do now?  Where should we go.  How bad is it?????  We sat together and held each other and just cried.  Then the power went off and we just sat together in the dark.  Brewing just west of town and traveling about ¼ of a mile north of our home was a February tornado.  Welcome to Oklahoma. 

As we sat there in the dark trying to talk through options, I was reminded of something my husband said to me many years before.  “If I ever get cancer I’m not doing chemo and throw up for months on end.” For some reason that memory was fresh in my mind and I got right in my husband’s face and said, promise me you will do whatever it takes to beat this.  PROMISE ME!  When I reminded him of that memory, his response was “I will absolutely do whatever it takes.” 

So fast forward three days to Valentine’s Day 2009.  We were in no way in the mood to dress up and go out, but we had already committed to attending a community fundraising function that included food, drink and dancing.  My only real memory of that night was when Keith took me in his arms for those slow dances and me fighting back the tears wondering if this would be the last time we would be able to dance together.  That’s when in my heart I said to God, “I know you didn’t put this man in my life to just take him away.”

A few days later we traveled to MD Anderson in Houston to begin a path for treatment.  On April 24th, just six days after our first wedding anniversary, Keith completed his final treatment, rang the bell and we headed for home.  During this 2 ½ month period of time is when I learned what a real hero my husband is and just how brave he was.  You see, I am just the wife and caregiver.  I didn’t have to go through weekly all day chemo sessions, which by the way did not make him throw up and he did not lose his hair.  But he did have to undergo radiation treatments twice a day for many weeks. 

The radiation treatments were the hardest.  They had to make a mask for his head to hold him still while the radiation was delivered to his left tonsil.  He had to insert a large wedge-type thing into his mouth to pull his tongue out of the way while the radiation was being delivered.  To make it worse, when they laid him on the table, put the mask over his face, it was BOLTED to the table.  As I sat in the waiting room each and every time with other wives, some of their husbands couldn’t do it and would leave treatment.  Week after week his neck began to look like someone took a blow torch to it and he was in immense pain and discomfort.  After a while he couldn’t swallow food so they had to put in a feeding tube directly into his stomach, which is the only way he could get nutrition for months.  When I think back to that time, I am reminded just how courageous he was and is to this day.  My hero, my forever love.  My heart goes out to all those who have battled this terrible disease and I am FOREVER grateful for the success of Keith’s treatment. 

God did not put us together to just rip us apart.  He put us together for the long haul.  We have decided that we have the in sickness and health part of our marriage vows down pat.  So I encourage everyone to not wait until that one day a year to show your loved one just how much you love them.  Do like the Kings’ do and make every day Valentine’s Day. 

It’s Funny How Your Senses Work

GalvestonIn early 2009, nine short months after we got married, my husband was diagnosed with cancer.  From February of that year until his final cancer treatment on April 24 [yes I know the exact day], we were at MD Anderson in Houston, Texas beating cancer’s butt.

We traveled back and forth for many weeks from Ardmore to Houston until Keith got his official treatment plan and start date.  Once the plan was ready to put into action, we were more or less residents of Houston for the next 6-7 weeks.  We began our little adventure in a small, extended-stay motel just blocks from the medical center.  Keith felt pretty good and wanted to walk to the medical center until he couldn’t any more.  We went to the grocery store and bought a little food, snack stuff, drinks and garbage bags.  Scented garbage bags apparently.

During the last three weeks of our stay, we were fortunate enough to be in a fully-furnished apartment.  Houston has a wonderful church ministry there that has several churches that go together to provide cancer patients with “affordable” and nice housing for their stay at the medical center.  I found out about it late so we only were able to utilize the opportunity for our last three weeks, but those were the weeks where Keith really needed some place quiet and more like home to recover.  The last few weeks of anyone’s cancer treatments are usually the hardest and Keith was no exception.

When we moved to the little apartment, we packed up everything from the extended stay and took with us, to include the big box of scented trash bags.  I continued to be nurse, maid and wife, which included taking out the garbage.  No big deal.  It had to be done, happy to do it.

Months later, we are back home, Keith is healing well and thoughts of our 3 months in Houston are beginning to seem very distant, until one day…..  I just happened to be in the kitchen when it was time to change out the garbage so I whipped out a new garbage bag and WHAMMO it hit me.  The smell of the “scented” garbage bag.  OMG!  It was the same scented garbage bag smell as the scented bags in Houston.  All at once I got nauseous and was right back in Houston in the middle of a very difficult time.   My mouth started sweating and I felt sick all over.  A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.  My palms got sweaty.  I backed away and had to get some fresh air.

Now Keith is the grocery shopper most of the time in our house so I found him quickly and said, PLEASE no more scented garbage bags.  He got a very curious look on his face and I simply said, reminds me of our time in Houston.  That was all I needed to say and he agreed, no more scented garbage bags.

Now here I am in 2014, I am going through some drawers and throwing some stuff away and I need a garbage bag.   You guessed it; apparently we still had some of those “scented” bags.  I whipped the bag out of the box and shook it open and WHAMMO, here we go again.  Houston, I think we have a problem.