Patient Zero

I will tell people who ask that I watched as my wife was dying right in front of me. They give their apologies but in the eyes you can see the truth. “Ah, that is rough but she didn’t actually die,” “You have my sympathies but she is the one with the cancer,” “Maybe you are trying to milk this a little hard, she wasn’t that close.” Fair enough. People do not generally know anyone as well as they think, and they will never know anyone as well as they want to. No single person is a completely open book due to the fact that no single person fully understands everything about themselves. So if they cannot understand everything about themselves, whom they inarguably spend the most time with, how can they ever hope to fully understand anything? I do not blame them for their inaudible skepticism.

Let’s take it a few steps back. They discovered the cancer through a series of tests that started with a colon cleanse. This typically isn’t a terrible experience, except when an object is blocking the majority of the passageway nothing short of violent occurs. The cleanse was to perform a colonoscopy which then discovered a large unidentifiable mass of which they immediately performed a biopsy (took a small piece of), which would begin a series of unfortunate events without Neil Patrick Harris. After the procedure my wife seemed in even more pain than when she went in. We were told this would pass though it was peculiar (this will be a common theme in this specific hospital). It did not pass. Once the biopsy returned the Doctors confirmed it was cancer and promptly set us up for surgery the following week. After all the appointments were made the staff attempted to discharge us, as they were unaware that she was in exacerbated pain despite the frequent claims.  After we promptly denied the discharge and explained the reasons once again they performed a scan and found that her colon had been perforated (itty bitty hole), most likely from the colonoscopy or biopsy. Due to this oversight her suggested surgery had been moved up from a week to ASAP as they had to repair the damage before discharging her.

We took it as a mixed blessing, being able to remove the cancer immediately in exchange for short term pain seemed like a good deal that few would get. I do not recall when surgery began, I know it was within a 24 hour period and we had to perform another colon cleanse which went a little better as there was literally nothing in her system except water. Perhaps it was around 3AM when they came for surgery, I seem to remember we were trying to sleep but sleeping in a hospital comes whenever you can get it. I don’t remember the wait, perhaps I fell asleep, perhaps it is just another watercolor-blurred detail, but I remember her return, a relatively happy expression from her oncologist as he explained how well the procedure went. They removed a large mass, I have been told somewhere between the size of a golf ball and a baseball, they removed several lymph nodes which would be sent off for testing, and she should recover nicely. She did recover quite nicely, movement was limited at first but spirits were returning. She reached major recovery quicker than expected (another theme) and they were ready to discharge us within a week I believe. We did not have any complaints about going home this time.

Shortly thereafter we met with her oncologist in his own office and discussed follow up treatment. We discussed chemotherapy mostly and what to expect from it, as well as several other more natural options, as well as implications this would have on the ability to have children. These were lengthy discussions both with each other and the oncologist as well as a few insider informants we had on the side. These discussions were strange, they would range from complete factual spit balling to emotional struggles of realizations, often within the same conversation The decision to do chemotherapy wasn’t a complex one but it was a difficult one, our most complex and emotional decision happened to be our easiest as we were stonewalled by finances in the immediate sense, but I am not the one to tell that story. Chemotherapy was scheduled and we waited, being completely informed of what to expect from it and all of the things that could occur during the time frame between treatments.

Her friend Rachel took her to her first chemo treatment and apparently that is where my wife’s memory ends. Upon her return she was already tired, and when I returned home it seemed as bad as any movie ever depicted it. She was pale, lethargic, tired, vomiting every 2 hours even during the night, but the big problem is she seemed lucid. This continued for days like clockwork but we were assured by hospital staff that while these symptoms seemed peculiar they should pass. Her aunt brought her to the cancer center later in the week, I left work early to join them and my wife somehow looked worse. Somehow between the night before and the late morning she had gone from chemo patient to zombie. Her aunt and I both expressed our concerns and the nurses seemed to agree. They performed a few basic tests and promptly admitted us back to the hospital within the hour. The assumption was she needed fluids, she wasn’t staying hydrated, and she would just need to rest to recover. But she didn’t, she was quickly fading. Each passing hour she was getting quieter, her breathing getting more labored, her skin getting paler. I called the nurse at one point and told her I was very concerned that her breathing was getting worse. I was told that, while this was peculiar, it would pass. It didn’t pass, and it was not long after that my wife, with all the strength she could muster which to her was a deafening scream, faintly whispered to me “Help me….”

So when I tell someone I watched as my wife was dying….