 |
"Three days, three weeks, three months,"
an unemotional oncologist diagnosed my husband’s condition. "Our team of
researchers has found no treatment for Pseudomyxoma Peritonei—PMP is a rare
cancer."
The oncologist did not examine me, the wife.
But from the first prediction of my husband's numbered days, my form of cancer
titled fear began its deterioration on my health. Fear ate at my insides constantly.
A year later, Gary still alive, we found Dr. Brian Loggie, a PMP specialist, only five
miles from our home. He performed a 12 hour surgery on Gary in February 2004. In the months following, Gary limped around like a weak
puppy until Dr. Loggie suggested he ride a bike.
By the end of that summer, Gary rode his bike
25 miles a day. His activity helped chase away my fear—I knew he’d live
forever.
Fast forward to Thanksgiving 2009: Gary died
suddenly of a heart attack. Now I faced a new me, a single woman in a couple’s
world. A different me also battling breast cancer alone.
Fear of my financial future crippled me. I let
my singlehood leave me vulnerable. The aftermath of breast cancer surgery kept me
physically distraught. And my grief overwhelmed me.
To
survive I realized I needed to face life. Others have survived alone and left their fears behind.
My
advice to me and others:
Challenge yourself to face each day with a smile.
Allow yourself to learn new things and breathe again.
Praise God for each breath you take.
“Let everything that has breath praise
the Lord. Praise the Lord.”
Psalm 150:6 NIV
More of Gary's PMP story is found in
(found on Amazon)
No comments:
Post a Comment