That Widow

We met, officially, February 26, 2010. It was my birthday and my mom wanted to introduce me to someone. He was out plowing the roads because of a snow storm. He met us at the Crown sports bar where we continued to drink and dance the night away. He would later tell me that he actually saw me before that night when I was working at Hooters and he happened to tell his coworkers he was with that he knew me.

From that first night on we were inseparable. 3 days in he said I love you. Whirlwind, people. It was a whirlwind. I was smitten with him and his quirky ways that I found endearing at the time and would later drive me absolutely nuts as these things tend to do. Oh, how cute that you use a clothes folding board like the stores to fold your shirts. This later turned into fold your own shirts everyone else gets theirs folded like mine. How sweet that you use a cooler as a lunchbox so that you can take more snacks. If you don’t move that damn cooler I’m throwing it out! You know, the typical things that happen in any relationship.

At the time he was surrounded by trauma as he was coming out of a long term relationship where he was married but almost divorced. She cheated and he was devastated. 23 year old me had no idea what any of this would mean for us. Turns out it was a lot of heartache that turned into my own personal trauma at his hands.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught him cheating either physically or emotionally but it was always just brushed aside as being no big deal. We had a son together and he left us at the hospital when he was 1 and had gotten surgery for ear tubes so that he could go hook up with a coworker. Another time it was a couple of days before our wedding and I had a woman come to attack me as I had my son in a Mexican restaurant parking lot because my husband was messing around with both her and her sister in law. It goes on and on and on and I can’t tell you how many or how often because it doesn’t matter other than the fact that it was too many and too often. It never should have been.

Fast forward we had just had our 5th little boy and my husband started to get this air bubble feeling in his chest when he would eat or drink. It because increasingly harder for him to burp. He had never been a burper in his life until this point. He was 38 and thought no big deal. He was loosing weight and we had just changed our family doctor as ours were aging and getting to retirement. I bring up his symptoms to the new doctor and they though it was reflux. I’m like no, I have that and that’s not this. June 18th, the day after his 39 birthday he was scheduled for an endoscopy. We thought no big deal, maybe one of his stomach sphincter muscles is lose and will need repaired. He had lost about 25 pounds by this point but was otherwise ok other than the air bubble feeling. That day I got a call to prepare for it to not be good news when the results come back. June 23rd we got the first confirmed call of cancer. It was thought to be esophageal cancer because of what they saw but more tests were on the horizon. Not too long after this we found out were we’re expecting baby number 6.

After more tests and more abdominal holes for equipment we were told he had stomach cancer at the gastroesophageal junction. They caught it early enough and we were looking at maybe a 2A stage. Ok, we can do this! He had his port placed. He started his chemo regimen and in October he had a total gastrectomy. Following the surgery we were told he was actually a stage 4. Now that was crushing!

He completed more chemo, completed targeted therapy, and on February 2nd was told he was NED, no evidence of disease, based on his CT scans. He went in for surgery on February 25, 2022 for a small bowel obstruction and during that surgery that found metastasis to the liver, lymph nodes, diaphragm, peritoneum, and small bowel. Ok, what do we do next? We changed his chemo and he had a j tube placed to help relieve pressure. The j tube ended up burning his skin off because it was leaking around the tube. It was awful! He was in tears because of how much it hurt and trying to keep him clean was next to impossible. No one was concerned. I ended up having baby #6, another boy, on a Monday. I got released from the hospital on Wednesday, and picked him up from chemo on Friday. So he was doing chemo for 3 weeks on 1 week off. Finally the surgeon put an ostomy bag on where the j tube would have been the following week and said it would be a miracle if it heals.

We made it to his newest scans in May and they were great! The least amount of cancer in his body since before we knew he had cancer. This chemo was working. Only the lymph nodes were showing microscopic levels of cancer. So we continued on. The ostomy ended up healing! It was amazing! Until it wasn’t again.

He started having headaches that would last 9-15 minutes multiple times a day. They would cause double vision and intense, radiating pain. The option for that was botox but that takes months of appointments to finally get insurance to pay for it. Out of pocket would have been over $11,000 every 6 months. So we tried the insurance route and we had almost made it. He was seeing 2 neurologists, tried physical therapy, and was seeing a chiropractor twice a week.

He also started having pain while eating again. It was on the opposite side and was only when eating. He was vomiting alkaline 3-5 times a night but only at night. He was sleeping at an incline and taking the medication that they prescribed for it but when you don’t have a stomach medication doesn’t get absorbed the same way. Then he started to get a cough from a random cold. Wasn’t too terrible but it was there.

Finally, he was chasing our fourth son one night because he wasn’t listening. I was shocked to see him moving so fast but he was mad so off he went. He went to pick him up, he’s every bit of 45 pounds, he’s a tank. So he picks him up and puts him in his bed and then complains about it hurting to do that and I said you have no muscle strength and you’re in pain from the headaches and eating now you want to chase him and pick him up. That’s a no win situation. That night he proceeded to vomit the alkaline and have coughing fits from the cold. By the weekend he had a lump at his newly healed ostomy site. I said it was most likely a hernia and we would have to keep an eye on it. That night he didn’t make it to the toilet fast enough and puked alkaline all over the bathroom. Here I came to clean it up while he went back to bed. That same night the hernia busted through where the ostomy had been and he came to get me to figure out what to do. We had to put a bag back on, what else could we do? He was so mad. He was cussing and saying he couldn’t believe this was his life and how terrible it all was. I finally snapped and said just shut up! This is our life and we’re making the best of it right now. It will get better again we just have to take it easy. He got the ostomy contents all over the other bathroom so I cleaned him up and got him back to bed and then cleaned that bathroom up too.

I messaged the doctors and let them know what happened and none of them were concerned, this was Monday morning. They asked him to come into the hospital to get fluids and he declined. He said he wasn’t going to waste 6 hours just getting fluids when he had gotten extra fluids Friday at chemo. At 3pm he said he was in pain and it sounded like a possible UTI. He came home 15 minutes early from work and I went and got over the counter UTI medication. We got him set up stairs in bed relaxing, watching tv, and with plenty of fluids to try and flush his system. He kept asking if he should go in and I said I don’t know, I’m not you. If you think you should then yes. By 12:45am he said it was time to go in. I called his parents and his dad came and got him.

The ER doctors wanted a urine sample, he couldn’t give them one, they gave him pain Ed’s to help take the edge off and while they were waiting for him to pee they decided to do a CT scan. It showed he had free air in his abdomen, he had a perforated bowel. An ambulance wasn’t available to transport him to his typical hospital with all of his doctors so they did medflight and he got to ride shotgun in the cockpit.

A surgical oncologist came in and said he wasn’t a surgical candidate because of the chemo and his body not being able to heel quickly enough. His words were “we can try and get this under control so you can have quality of time at home”. I was SHOCKED! I said WHOA, what are you talking about? What did you see on those scans that I don’t know about? Quality of time? Why are you talking as if he’s about to die. This doctor continued on his script and said that the cancer was taking over and now with the perforated bowel it was about quality. He was going to be moved up to the ICU and given antibiotics to see if they could stop an infection.

A nurse practitioner from the ICU came in and said that he was going to go into septic shock if the antibiotics didn’t work and we had 48 hours to see if he would still be alive. WHAT?! How did we get here? How did this happen? I started looking at all of his bloodwork and nothing was jumping out as alarming. Nonetheless they hooked him up to the strongest antibiotics they have, loses him up on a ton of fluids, and then told us to start the clock.

We decided to make all of the hard phone calls right then and there. We called the funeral home and were able to make all of the decisions over the phone, I was sent pictures of the available caskets for him to choose from. We got it all set in place. Just in case.

We met with his medical oncologist and he was shocked. He said get through this and we’ll do new scans in a week and get a new treatment plan set up. You can do this. There are still options. I felt better about that because this man had been with us this whole year and he knew to be blunt and honest with us. If he said we could get new scans and treatment plan in a week then he meant it.

The next day was preschool screening for our 4th son and in walks one of the women he works with and had an affair with, she sat next to me instead of sitting down further. Whatever, just keep it together, that’s what I told myself. I got to the hospital that day and he was apologizing because she had text him about what she did and how she was praying for him. Bleh, puke. He kept apologizing though, for everything. For every putting me through any of that heartache. I knew then he was done for sure. I told him I thought that those were the worst days of my life when he was putting me through all of that but those days are nothing in comparison to what he’s doing to me now.

That day we met with a social worker to talk about hospice and what it could possibly look like if we got to that point. By that evening he said he was done and wanted hospice. He wasn’t going to do this anymore. He wanted to do it at the hospital and for me to bring the boys to see him. I begged and said I haven’t asked you for anything this entire time you’ve been diagnosed but this is me cashing in all of my chips, please come home. Please come home to me and our boys and let us have that time together. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be a burden but I just begged him and he finally agreed. I got hospice setup in less than 12 hours.

That night I couldn’t sleep, I was climbing the walls, I knew what was coming and I was trying to figure anything out to stop it. I didn’t want it. His bloodwork also didn’t point in the direction of septic shock. NONE! I was frustrated. The next day I begged him again to give it more time. He refused. Give me 12 hours to get new labs, no, 6 hours, no, 3 hours, no. Fine, let’s go home. He had a hero’s welcome home with so many deputies, firefighters, state patrolmen, ems, you name it they had their sirens wailing.

Side note: The ho who sat by me at the screening tried to go pick him up with the others! I was shocked! Does she have no class? She’s married and trying to bring my dying husband home to me and our children. What is wrong with her? She was caught before she could get into the hospital and told not to be involved in anything. I also called his boss and let him know what she did and that she was not welcome at his viewing or funeral and he said he would handle it and that’s exactly what he did.

His one condition about all of the cars with sirens was let them motherfuckers wail. And wail they did. His boys were shocked and excited to see and hear the sirens and then to have him back home. They thought he was going to get better again. The only one who really understood was our oldest; he wasn’t going to get better and he was coming home to die.

That started our house being full of love, laughter, heartache, tears, and so many extra people. His sisters and parents sat with me by his bedside while my mom chased around my boys and helped take care of them. They each came in and gave him hugs and kisses and talked to him. He was coherent for that first day and the next. The next day friends and family stopped by to say their goodbyes. While the hospice nurse was there he kept kissing me and wouldn’t let go of me. He kept saying “I want your lips on my lips when I go” he repeated it over and over again. I laughed and said it’s taken you 12 years to finally show how much you love me, you’ve never kissed me this much! I soaked it all up though. By the 3rd day I said no more visitors unless it was out of town family. He was just too tired and not responding as much as he had been. He would randomly stretch his arms way you high to the ceiling and flex his wrists and we would laugh and ask what he was doing.

I was able to get our photographer friend to come and take a family picture of us, we didn’t have one since our youngest was born and I didn’t want to not get one. She took amazing pictures for me and for each of my boys. I took some silly selfies with him. These are pictures I will cherish for the rest of my life. His breathing changed on the 4th day and his NG tube stopped producing so we knew we were getting closer. The 5th day I woke up and the first thing I saw was blood in the NG tube line that had been clear and the only thing I said was FUCK. His body had expelled everything it could and it was time but his heart wouldn’t stop. His mom and I cleaned him up and everyone said their final goodbye and at 7:26am he took his final breath. My life of us together ended at 7:26am and I was reborn an angry single mother to 6 boys.

When he left the hospital they said we would most likely have a few hours to maybe a day if we were lucky, he gave me 3 extra days at home with our boys. That was his final act of love to me, time for them and time for us.

I was able to keep myself together for the viewing and funeral. I made it up until the part where his boss brought me the folded flag and his hat and gave them to me and thanked me for his service, then I lost it. I got myself back together and we placed flowers on his casket and then I addressed everyone there from far and wide and thanked them for not only showing to pay their respects but to also show love and support for me and our boys. It meant so much to me and I can never repay them for their kindness.

This is where my life story I thought I had all figured out ends and my new life story begins. Welcome to being a widow at 35 with 6 boys; 9, 5, 4, 3, 1, and 4 months.