Blue-eyes and Cancer

If you’re looking for humor, then I don’t suggest you read this one, because it’s about indestructible Blue-eyes and cancer. It’s about my best friend, my love and spouse we lost to cancer not long ago. As a consequence, this has left a massive void in our family’s lives. So this is something of a catharsis and perhaps self-serving, but after some thought I came to the conclusion that it might help others who have suffered similar experiences caused by this frightful and devastating disease, or for that matter, any loss.

We have, and I say “have” intentionally, been married a long time, have a bunch of kids, grand-kids, and a lot of fun and many memories. Like all relationships, there are many trials and tribulations, but we always weathered through these and created a strong and continuing love, with respect and regard for each. Over time these evolved not only into the lifelong friendship, but deep love and understanding which, in my opinion, are absolutely necessary to make relationships work, especially marriage.

Blue-eyes and I are best buddies, confidants, soul-mates and lovers. It’s a wonderful combination. We would have our little fights, but always keep them fair and would always attempt to make up before the day was over. One of the important aspects of this was to not hold a grudge and to improve wherever possible. Sometimes we succeeded and sometimes not, but in the end we always worked out some form of compromise. Part of a continuing relationship is providing each other the necessary degree of privacy and space needed to protect our individuality. This, in our thinking was an important necessity for us, on an individual basis, to understand who we were without attempts to dominate each other’s life or thought processes. We still had our collective responsibilities as related to the marriage and relationship, and those were primary considerations, especially when you have a family.

If you have read some of the other things I’ve written about our family time together, then you’ll suspect what a tremendous personality and influence Blue-eyes brought to the relationship and our family and in reality, her world other than just our particular relationship. When she went back to work she began a career with a highly professional and demanding institution where egos were a dominant issue and competition for success extreme. She was involved in this career for over 25 years and was so highly respected and regarded that she developed a lifelong network of friends and associates who continued to maintain and nurture her as a friend and confidant.

She was one of the few people that it can truly be said – she had never met anyone that she didn’t like, and I suspect that this was because she treated all people with absolute respect and a huge degree of generosity. Even some who I considered completely unworthy. I can’t remember her saying anything negative about anybody on a really serious basis. Even when I expressed my opinion that certain people had taken advantage of her, she would just look at me with those blue eyes, smile and continue on. The facts are that it was their loss, not hers! I’m sure she thought about these events, but her positive view of the world and the people in it would always prevail. That was part of Blue-eyes’ basic personality, and it was absolutely true and not some phony ploy. She really didn’t know the meaning of the word phony and there was no pretense whatsoever in her personality. What you saw is what you got! This was a primary reason why I enjoyed seeing her every day! I still enjoy it!

The cancer happened fast and was a real and total shock! No cancer history in her family. She didn’t smoke, was a light social drinker – mostly wine – and watched her general diet. The only time that Blue-eyes went into the hospital was to have kids. One exception being a hip replacement some years back, likely caused by her being very active and an excellent athlete. She had been blessed with good health a majority of her life, with only some minor issues brought about by the normal aspects of aging. She was never one to bitch or complain about not feeling well, and if she didn’t feel real great she disguised it magnificently. Actually, after being around her for many years, I became tuned in and was aware of when she was less 100%, usually because she was not as quick to point out my idiosyncrasies.

The first signs of a possible major problem started rather innocuously. We were coming up on a big celebration and had attended parties of friends who had also had this event celebrated by a multitude of family and friends. After watching some of these, we decided that we would forgo this gala and be unavailable when this date arrived, informing the gang that we had long planned to be at our favorite retreat in Hawaii. Arrangements had been made well in advance, so we were all set to go!

However, about a month before our scheduled departure, Blue-eyes developed some digestive issues and was getting treatment. After a period of time it was clear she was not getting any better, as a matter of fact, worse. Her doctor arranged for an MRI because he suspected some form of intestinal blockage. Nobody seemed to be overly concerned! We, being her family, were naturally a little concerned even though the general prognosis was this was not a major issue and she would be back on her feet within a week. Blue-eyes and I discussed canceling the pending trip with the surgeon and were advised, much to my relief and worry that would be totally unnecessary. This was approximately two weeks before our scheduled departure.

She was scheduled for this minor surgery a few days later. By definition, no surgery is really minor, so the family was close at hand or on their way during this “procedure.” After the surgery was done she was sent to the recovery room and a number of us were waiting until we could see her. The surgeon came down the corridor, sat down, looked at us and said “it’s cancer.” It took a few minutes for the realization of what he had just said to sink in. We did not have to ask — he said “it’s terminal.” I was dumbfounded and too shocked to ask any questions. He informed us that it was stage IV, metastasized and spread throughout her lower intestinal tract. He had removed three large tumors from her intestine and could see many other smaller tumors.

The discussion at that point was the complete elimination of any surgical procedure to remove the cancer, and that at this stage chemotherapy was the only treatment available. Her form of cancer was so rare, one in 20 million, that there was no known treatment and the only recourse was to attempt the existing drug formulations used for colon cancer. His final comment when asked how much time — he told us “maybe three months!” And I do remember my thought at this point was this is a really bad dream and I would wake-up any minute. No, unfortunately this was real!

My emotions naturally caused me to totally quit thinking. I was completely lost in this devastating news. Blue-eyes was still in recovery and would not be allowed visitors for at least another two hours. The surgeon was extremely sensitive and clearly in a state of shock himself, and he asked the question “do you want to tell her or should I?” I don’t know exactly what I said, but I realized that I was a basket case and would not be able to tell her without totally losing it. Not that losing it was a bad thing, but my reaction and thought was that we need to be very strong at this point and demonstrate a positive attitude, regardless of the prognosis and status of the cancer. We agreed to meet two hours later, after she had been moved from recovery to another room. I went for a walk to be alone for some private time to be with my thoughts and my fear. It wasn’t grief at this point, more like abject terror! Perhaps wanting to be alone was unfair to the rest of the family, but at the same time I felt perhaps it was likely we all needed some private time.

We met just outside her room and went in to see her, followed shortly by the surgeon. She was propped up in bed with a bunch of pillows, her eyes sparkling with her fantastic smile and we all said “Hi” or some such thing. The surgeon then came in and she looked at him and said “Well, how am I doing?” This guy was a super winner! He explained in very gentle terms what the situation was, and the pending issues. His sensitivity was absolutely amazing. After he finished, Blue-eyes looked at me with little change in her expressions, smiled and said “Sounds like I’m in a little trouble!” I don’t think I said anything, probably just looked at her and nodded my head. Clearly, she took it better than the rest of us. After a few minutes I left, found a quiet place and totally lost it!

One of the gang came out and found me, indicating that the oncology specialist had showed up and they were discussing the pending procedures for chemo. Part of that is a minor incision to allow the treatment to be less intrusive by placing a device in the chest cavity. This meant some more minor surgery the next day, so she would remain in hospital until he was sure of no infections or other complications. It turned out that I had met the oncology physician during some non-medical meeting, and this set the potential relationship on a very positive and more personal basis. By now Blue-eyes was tired and went to sleep. She had the additional surgery the next day and came through it in flying colors.

We all spent the next few days in and out of visiting, and searching with our computers on the internet what this type of cancer was really all about. One of my daughters, who has numerous contacts in the medical field came back with the most pragmatic views and prognosis. It was not good! The mortality rate within the first six months was extremely high, regardless of treatment. To the best of my knowledge we kept this information to ourselves. During her stay in the hospital, the chemo people came, explained the technique, procedure and duration of each treatment, which was to take place every two weeks for the next six months, then some time off, and start over as necessary.

A few days later we picked up Blue-eyes and brought her home. She immediately went out into the garden and started doing her normal surveying of things that need to be done. The gang had to go back to work but was still, thankfully, close at hand. She would get tired rather easily – more from the complications of the surgery than the effects of the cancer. She wasn’t in any real pain, only discomfort from the incisions and this new device inserted into her chest. She never said a word about it but I could tell, and knew better than to mention it. She had a prescription for pain, but I don’t think she took the pills that much, if at all!

About a week later she began the chemo treatment, which is a rather deadly concoction of chemicals that, frankly, knocked the living hell out of her body. Because of these effects she decided to move into the family room and sleep on a very large comfortable couch, so that when she woke up at night she could watch TV or do whatever without waking me up. Typical Blue-eyes! That really didn’t work because I would go to bed about 9:30, wake up around 12:30, go out to the family room and curl up on the other couch. This got to be a routine and it was a good thing, because we would have long conversations in the middle of the night.

Blue-eyes was no dummy. I didn’t know it, but she got on her computer and had more information about what was going on than any of us did. Her attitude was still very positive and she continued to say “I’m going to beat this thing.” The first round of chemo was very successful in reducing the growth of this very aggressive cancer. After a short break, she started the second round however, the various signs from blood work indicated that the cancer was still extremely active. During the second round, the chemicals that were used to kill bad cells were beginning to kill many of the good cells, and this caused her physical condition to worsen. Although the growth of the tumor was somewhat abated, the toll on Blue-eyes’ body was not particularly good. She began to lose her appetite and had continuing intestinal discomfort, which unfortunately interrupted her ability to get any deep sleep. She was still extremely positive, had a galaxy of new friends at the treatment center and had the various professionals totally impressed with her attitude.

By now she was into over a year of survival where the initial prognosis was probably three months. Blue-eyes was one hell of a fighter and her attitude was “never, never give up!” Because of the physical distress caused by these chemical cocktails, it was decided to give her body a rest and begin additional treatment after 6 to 8 weeks. She went back in and the tests were done to determine the growth factors of the cancer and the results were disastrous. When she came home after this devastating news she basically said that it was over.

The oncologists, still somewhat positive, renewed the chemo treatment trying a slightly different chemical cocktail, but the tumor was out of control and continued its aggressive growth. The tumor was quite large and was causing extreme pressure on the lower bowel and had to be relieved by additional surgery. After that, she stayed in the hospital for well over a week, with continuous pain relief, hydration and intravenous feeding. One or more of the gang was with her all the time. I was physically and emotionally exhausted and was thankful that each of our gang was available.

By now the word got out to people other than the family, and it was a fantastic continuous array of phone calls and visitors and flowers and cards, and so much love. She had the time to have some extremely remarkable conversations with her professional friends as well as social friends. Right to the end of her cogent periods, she was facilitating contacts within her new-found medical friends and older associates that could assist in all types of programs. You could see her glowing after each and every conversation and how very important this was. Even our gang was brought in to assure that certain things happen to support these ideas and of course, I was delegated to follow-up.

Eventually she became less and less conscious, and even those conscious moments were less cogent. We all would sit with her and hold her hand until she would fall asleep. I stayed with her for as long as I could possibly physically and emotionally endure. She was dismissed to hospice and taken off of everything but the dosage for pain. She knew exactly what was happening and still smiled, and one of her comments was she wanted to be home and in her family room to look out on her patio. I assured her that all that was prepared and waiting for her to tell us how to rearrange things!

She came home and we still had many close friends as visitors for the next few days. However, time was getting short and now it became a private family issue. Prior to this, when she realized the end was near, she had given me instructions on the gifts that I was to buy for the grandchildren, specifically from her. One of the great things was that she was able to see them open these presents and their reactions. Once again, those bright blue eyes sparkled and her smile was totally complete. The whole family came together at her bedside, not to say goodbye but rather to tell how much we loved her. It’s very hard to write this, but wonderful to remember. After this, Blue-eyes and I had a brief conversation before she drifted off to sleep. She smiled and I kissed her and said “Goodnight,” little knowing that it was our last conversation. She never woke up again and in the less than two days later, died in her sleep. Her crew was there with her and she knew it, and left us with her sparkling smile and a lifelong memory of those marvelous blue eyes.

In many general conversations about death, you hear people say “when I go I just want to go quick – sudden death!” If there’s uncontrolled pain or other quality-of-life issues, then perhaps this is a valid consideration. As an afterthought, I have some very strong doubts about that. I have some friends who lost loved ones on a sudden death basis and I think it possible that they lost some very important opportunities to do and say things to those loved ones, that unfortunately go undone and unsaid.

Blue-eyes suffered little and I truly thanked God for at least a little more time. She was one tough cookie! She beat some long odds lasting those 16 months, principally because of an inner strength, and if there was any pain, she kept it to herself. Some of us could see this and it was extremely difficult, but her smile made our anxiety go away. All her friends and family had a final chance to talk, to reminisce and to love. I wouldn’t change that opportunity for anything that I can think of, unless it was to see her once again!

I once read a poem about someone who had died and was basically telling their partner “I’ve really not gone away, you just can’t see me!” For me this is true. Blue-eyes is still here, and I see her each and every day in my mind and in what we built together. One of her last comments was “We did good, didn’t we?” My response was “You did good, I just helped along the way.” I thought something inside me was dying but then realized that wasn’t true, because her life is inside me and it is a living thing. There are some lines from lyrics written years ago by Don McLean that have often come to my mind recently, “And for the first time I’ve been seeing all those things I’d never notice, without you. And for the first time I’m discovering the things I used to treasure, about you.”

She had always stated that she wanted no memorial or any kind of “celebration.” I figured I had one last chance to attempt to defy her pronouncements, and we went ahead and did both. It was a good thing, for a lot of people got together and talked about Blue-eyes, and this created a perpetual legacy. She is still alive in the minds of those people and many others, “they just can’t see her.”

At the memorial I was supposed to read something that I had written, probably from some thing in my head, but frankly was incapable of doing this. It was, “If there was ever a beauty in this world which one must trust, then this is but a dream of her and then one must trust in that love alone and accept the fact that the price of that love is grief!“

I grieve, each and every day, but at the same time she and I are still laughing together and will for eternity, so she is still here. That is the important stuff of life!

I intend to keep writing about our family, our lives and about her, because that way I know she and I can laugh together, even though I can’t see her. I will still hear her saying, “You know, you’re really weird, but I love you anyway.”

She did good!

The Vacation Home, or Do you really want to be a “Tree-Hugger”

Many people have the notion that it’s really important to have a place to go to on the weekends, to get away from the humdrum of their daily routine.  Enter the idea of a weekend retreat for the purpose of relaxation and enjoying the great outdoors.  Really good concept – however, there are a few drawbacks regarding this marvelous “let’s get away from all” routine.

A sub-six section of my family – third cousins twice removed – owned property in a remote Redwood Canyon about 12 miles from the Pacific Ocean.  The facts are the property goes back as far as 1860, maybe more, when the first lumbering operation took place in this magnificent secluded area of gigantic redwoods, which was ravaged to build the booming town of San Francisco.  After lumbering operations stopped, some enterprising individual subdivided the land into one acre plots in a rather narrow Canyon, with a medium-sized Creek, placidly running except in the winter, from the top of a 2400 foot mountain, to 100 foot waterfall and meandered through the remainder of the occupied Canyon. It was pretty fantastic in the wintertime.  Outright scary!  In the early spring, steel-head salmon used to come up the Creek all the way to the waterfalls, but not anymore.  The skill of the Army Corps of Engineers took care of that problem by redirecting the mouth of this little tributary to build a military road that went nowhere and never got built. However, the salmon may be back.  (As a political comment, clearly nothing is changed, we still spend money on roads to nowhere.)

As a kid I had fond memories of our occasional visits and what a great deal of enjoyment the surrounding area provided: fishing, crawdad catching, swimming, snipe hunting and running around in the redwood forest with an occasional trip to the ocean. I had always dreamed that someday I would have my own place in this tranquil departure from civilization. Maybe I should change the word “dream” to the word “fantasy.” As a kid you have to remember nothing is ever quite as it seems.

There were very few people living in the Canyon on a full-time basis. It was mostly weekend or summer holidays where people would come in and stay for a couple weeks, but then pack up and go back to their normal routines.  There were probably 40 or 50 “summer places” of varying size and quality.  Some of the families would move in and stay there for most of the summer, but normally leave when the weather seriously reduced outdoor activity, or when school was about to start.

This little community had what could be euphemistically called a homeowners association, another term for “you are required to work your butt off on the roads, creeks and anything that would impede the ability to get into this remote Canyon.”  Ergo – the concept of the “work weekend” which was mandatory for all homeowners. The junior grade residents were not exempt from this activity, but were normally relegated to cutting brush away from the road and cleaning out certain areas of the Creek. This is of course is an oxymoron, because we spent more time screwing around in the Creek than we did working.  I’m sure it was adult psychology being applied, keeping us from being something defined as a “pain in the ass!”

The only fun part of this was on Saturday nights when there would be a big barbecue down by the new pool near the old swimming hole and afterward we would all play what was called “flashlight tag.”  Most of the older adults had retired to do whatever it was they would do without the kids around. Based on some of the laughter coming from the various cabins, I got the impression that the adults had a game of their own, which they did not wish to share with the younger generation.  Keep in mind, this was long before sex education, females were not liberated and were not even allowed to play “stick in the mud” with the boys.  (If you don’t know what “stick in the mud” is, check out the web.  Most of our attitudes were “they are here and had to be tolerated.”   We thought chauvinism was one of King Arthur’s knights.  Needless to say, my attitude forever changed in the next few years – not by social pressure but by a non–cultural definition called puberty, which was the worst two years of my young life.

Being young and innocent, I didn’t realize that the older “youngsters” were playing a game called “Beer Can” flashlight tag, whose rules were basically boy finds girl and both disappear into the night and wait for someone to find them, while secretly hoping they didn’t.  I didn’t think much of this, one way or another because at that point, in my short little existence I wasn’t interested girls. “Duh!”

One of those evenings, while hiding, I heard this scream and then a big splash over in the area where the old natural swimming hole used to be.  Being trained as a Boy Scout, I ran over and heroically shined my regulation BSA flashlight into the creek area, totally ready to dive in, to earn my life saving merit badge, and discovered that one of the girls had fallen into the Creek.  By my best estimation and limited knowledge of anatomy, she was missing some of her clothing.  Like in most of her clothing.  She promptly told me to “turn off the damn light” and her partner mentioned something about “get expletive deleted lost!”  I do remember my first thought was this game has taken on a new twist! Over the next few years I became very interested in playing flashlight tag and discovered it was much more fun to have a girl as a partner than one of the guys or hiding alone. I was tired of hugging trees.

A few years later, for some reason we did not go to the Canyon on a frequent basis, maybe once or twice a year to attend some big shindig.  Like most things in life, time forces different priorities and perspectives.  Although I never lost interest in those youthful events and endeavors, I didn’t seem to miss going there. Unfortunately, as I grew older, I discovered other activities and elements of life while in high school, such as girls, football, baseball and cars, but not necessarily in that order.  Plus, I usually had a job during the summer months.  After graduating from high school I made the decision that I wasn’t ready for college, meaning I didn’t have the grades, and essentially wanted a certain level of emancipation.  I ended up in the Marine Corps and didn’t see the Canyon again for at least four years.

After my military obligation was over, I went back a few times, but unfortunately things had changed or perhaps I had changed.  It was still a beautiful place, but as a young adult it did not fit my current lifestyle as an erstwhile part-time college student and full-time chaser of the females.  One of my first questions to the opposite sex was “have you ever played flashlight tag?”

Before Blue-Eyes and I were married, I took her up there a number of times and she just loved it.  We stayed with friends and I rediscovered the beauty and ambiance.  Several years after were married, with three kids and our first house with a mortgage, we began to investigate the possibility of buying into the Canyon.  We found a place whose owners had moved to a different state and hadn’t used the place for well over two years.  Although it was a tight fit monetarily, we figured if we watched ourselves it could be done.  The cabin came furnished, at least for the most part although it had the need for a couple of extra beds and household stuff, but that was easily resolved.  It was just short of a turnkey event.

So, dream come true!  Not so fast there JJ.  We bought the cabin towards the end of the fall and did get to spend some fun times setting things up and getting organized and making a list of what had to be done to corral our ambulatory two little ones.  Number three was only about six months old.  Our first house was small, two bedrooms, one bath and required very little weekend maintenance.  So, for the first few months we would spend most weekends fixing things as we wanted.  When the weather turned wet, we would go up maybe once a month or maybe even less.  Thankfully, people that live there year-round were kind enough to check on the various cabins and had a list of phone numbers if there were problems.  So, my thoughts at this point were “JJ, this is snap city, a no-brainier and you got to love it.”

The next spring was the beginning of what could be called “the worm turning.” We went up there in late February.  The weather was beautiful and we had a great time wandering and hiking up to the falls, and well beyond to what was an abandoned auxiliary airfield on top of the mountain, built during World War II. We didn’t spend much time in the Canyon until April.  I was extremely surprised at the unnaturally rapid growth of the vegetation surrounding the cabin, including multiple fallen trees, limbs, and various and sundry flora that required considerable trimming.

I did not have the knowledge or tools for this newly acquired responsibility and spent a considerable chunk of change needed rehabilitate our “get away from it all and relax” investment.  I didn’t have a clue as to what was really required and discovered a whole new world after talking with some of the other cabin owners.  Plus, I’m one of the ego, left-brain types when using most tool stuff, and subscribed to the theory that “if all else fails, read the manual.”  The only garden tools I had at home were a water hose, power lawn mower, a rake and a shovel.  And I had trouble with those!  No manuals! Blue-Eyes took control of the mower after watching me spend an hour trying to get it started, commenting “Not only are you weird, but you’re a total klutz.”  She had not played fair – she had read the manual.

So, starting in early spring we began spending most weekends in the Canyon for rest and relaxation.  Blue-Eyes’ job was to stock up the kitchen, clean up the accumulated dust, and make the perpetual “honey do” list and watch the curtain climbers.  My job was to clean up the winter debris and clear out the multitude of brush and stuff around cabin.  I also had to determine how best to discourage a family of raccoons who had taken residence under the cabin. Keep in mind, the place had been relatively unoccupied for approximately two years.  I’m sure the “diminutive bandits” were upset because someone had invaded their home.  You might ask, as others did, “Why would you want to do that?  They’re so cute and lovable!”  Well – they’re not cute and lovable when they decide to play their version of “flashlight tag” all around the patio and roof in the wee hours of the morning.

I tried a number of non-lethal things to extricate them during the few first months, with little success.  That June they just disappeared.  Mother Nature in action had prevailed.  I think they eventually found other accommodations with less noise and distractions during their sleeping hours.  Possibly the raccoons had a “let’s get away from it all” routine for the weekends.  Hell, why not!  If I were a raccoon, that would be an inviting concept.  They didn’t even leave a goodbye message nor any apologies for the multiple garbage can raids or for having supplied sleep deprivation during their tenure.  I later discovered my failure at varmint extrication was seriously and negatively augmented by the kids who were secretly – meaning “don’t tell Dad!” – feeding them leftovers and only stopped when one of the larger “cuties” became extremely aggressive and scared the living hell out of the two good Samaritans and Blue-Eyes as well.  We still got the occasional visitor, but the accommodation contest was over.  I naturally congratulated myself on my ability and skills to conquer certain elements of the great outdoors, but too late for my merit badge.

Over the next four years we did have many extremely memorable and fun weekends communing with the trees and becoming avid “tree-huggers.”  But like all things, time has a way of creating unknown circumstances and adjustments.

Watch for part two, it gets to be more fun, but not for JJ.

Moral of the story; “If it’s national Arbor Day, take a tree to lunch.”