This is the story of how cancer has effected my life.

photo by pixabay

Cancer. The scourge of the modern world. It has wound its tentacles around many people. This insidious disease is indiscriminate. It knows no bounds. It attacks all races, creeds and age groups. No one is immune to its deadly embrace. You would be hard pressed to find anyone whose life has not been touched by cancer. Many people have valiantly fought but have lost the battle.

It is a topic that hits close to home. I was barely seven years old when I was first introduced to this evil stranger. My great aunt, the warm and loving matriarch of our family, kissed me good-bye one morning on her way out to the hospital to have surgery. She never returned home. She had succumbed to the big “C”. Later I would learn that it was colon cancer that had taken her away from me.

Just a scant three years later my beloved grandfather would be taken from me due to the big “C”. No one wanted to talk about it. It was a deep secret to be hidden in the recesses of the family history. Much later I would learn that he had prostate cancer. I assume the adults in my family thought I could be too young to understand. I did know that some dreaded disease called the big “C” took two loving members of my family away from me.

Flash forward another seven years and the long bony hand of that dreaded big “C” stuck again. This time it would be the center of my universe, my rock. My mother was only 45 when colon cancer claimed her, leaving five young children behind. The year that she was ill was a blur. One surgery and no chemo. I never knew why and my father wouldn’t talk about it.
She died at home surrounded by the family.

Life continued on, the children married and had children of their own. Then out of nowhere, the bird of prey swooped down with out stretched talons and struck again. Not once, but twice in one year. The glue binding our family together, my father, was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Stubborn and proud, he refused surgery and chemo. His final months were torture to watch as we stood by helpless. He passed away in December of that year.

The following spring my wonderful father-in-law, who was my second Dad, was diagnosed with stage four prostate cancer. By now, the family talks openly about the disease and treatment available. He was a peaceful man but when it came to battling the cancer he was a tiger. First came the hormone treatments. Not so bad. Then came the 30 rounds of radiation. No so good. He was weak and ill.

It was discovered that the radiation had destroyed one of his ureters, the tubes leading from the kidneys to the bladder. This necessitated further surgery and a placement of a drainage tube directly into his kidney. Brave man smiled and said it was easier to empty the bag any way. He saw the funny side to everything. He had a wicked sense of humor right up to the end.
He did have a couple of rounds of chemotherapy but he just became weaker and sicker. He finally said that he had had enough. He passed away in December, one year and 10 days after my father.

My most recent encounter with the bird of prey, was almost three years ago when the light of my life, my soul mate was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of prostrate cancer. He had his first surgery in June. Everything went well and he started on hormone therapy. Chemotherapy was not offered. Then the bleeding started and he needed to return to surgery. In all he had four surgeries. The cancer carried him away from me in August of that year. In total he was ill for 9 weeks. The most rapid advance of this disease I have ever witnessed.

Moral of this story? Cancer is a terrible disease. We need to learn more on prevention and treatment. We need to learn to take better care of this fragile vessel that we reside in. We only have one chance to get it right. Treat it with the respect that it deserves.