I have marveled at the incredible bravery of my wife.
That she was strong and resolute I never doubted, but the courage and perseverance she’s displayed battling cancer has been amazing. The illness shows no mercy and breaks down everything scared, reducing you to a baby-like dependence on others that a proud and independent person like Jane has found very distasteful.
However, she rallied and fought through every day grimly. Soon those things so painful to bear became, amazingly enough, acceptable as they had to be or they will certainly drive you to despair and an anguish unbearable.
Your attitude’s critical in dealing with these trials, your modesty a far-off memory and things squalid and disgusting an everyday occurrence. Each day becomes its own little challenge – you prepare yourself each morning to deal with whatever may come your way.
Everyone becomes worn, nerves fray and tempers flare. Your every emotion strained and stressed to the limit. Both patient and caregiver degrade, weaken, until only love is left.
When patience slipped for an instant, either my wife or myself, we’d pause and simply say, “Love you!” The tension would melt and vanish, we’d smile at one another, tired, patient and understanding of the trial which must be endured.
And so after three months of increasing discomfort the treatments finally ceased, things grew even worse for the next week until my wife was stretched to the breaking point. When a brave person with above average pain tolerance takes 30 minutes to summon all her resources just to brave the agony of getting out of bed it tears your heart.
I know many of you can identify with this situation, my heart and prayers go out to you.
And so the little victories began, gradually, slowly, snail-like, but every day, a little better. Finally, Jane braved the stairs, descended and ate dinner with us. Fifteen minutes was the limit, but we clapped and cheered for her victory.
Slowly the bedroom changed in purpose. Instead of a den of refuge where she could lie comfortably, rest and hide, the bedroom gradually evolved from lair of refuge to prison. As some strength returned, the mind yearned to spread its wings and return to pain-free mobility quickly. Patience can be so difficult, frustration so quick to strike.
Finally, she was able to travel and we returned home. A milestone had been met, a long dreamed of goal reached. The end of the road is still not in sight, battles, discomfort, pain, anxiety, frustration, doctor visits and tests lie ahead, but the heat of the battle has been fought.
The pieces of our former life lie scattered, fragments of a whole once ours and strangely like a dream. The mind clings tenaciously to those memories, refuses to let go, using them as a foundation of normalcy. Now we must reconstruct what we once knew.
When we were invited to a picnic this weekend at Jim and Carla Ackers, we grasped at that piece, picked it up, set it down, arranged it on the board almost desperately. A fragment of the former life returning.
The picnic consisted of several pieces, roads we hadn’t traveled in months, sights and sounds, friendly faces and the chance for Jane to briefly fish the pond. Her eyes lit up at that thought, a veil lifted, the sun shone brighter, a goal in sight.
We drove to Smethport and soon were seated comfortably in the gazebo feasting on fried chicken, potato salad, beans, watermelon and chips. The sun shone, fluffy clouds floated by, swifts swooped and darted over the pond chasing insects. A few bullfrogs croaked lazily from the lily pads and birds chirped from the bushes. It was magic to be back in such a natural, relaxing setting.
Lunch finished as Jane eyed her UL, the urge to fish growing ever stronger. The next few minutes would be a significant marker on her trail to recovery, an escape from the horrors of the past.
I tied on a No. 8 hook, slipped on a bobber and chunk of crawler. Jane grabbed the rod and effortlessly tossed out the offering. Ah, her muscles still remember how to cast.
The red bobber arced out, hit with a small splash and we all watched intently. A few seconds passed, the bobber jingled, then disappeared. She set the hook, the bobber came flying back and we all ducked. Well, it appeared the bluegill didn’t have a firm grip on things. Everyone laughed and Jane cast again.
The bobber shot under – she paused until the line came tight and set the hook. Instantly the UL came alive, bent deeply and pulsing and alive in Jane’s hands and wrists. The spunky fish swam in powerful tight circles and then used its broad side to run in front of her.
A huge grin came across her face, the uncertainty and pain vanished momentarily. Reality was here and now – friends, pond, angler, rod and fish. There was no room for anything else, only the living moment and the return of a burning happiness.
