Little did I know when I began the Kore blog that transormation would be thrust upon me in the twinkling of an eye. How quickly life is transformed whether we are ready for it or not.
On some inner, knowing, "seeing" level, I think I knew. Bill had been looking gray for some months, had not had a great appetite, and seemed to be losing interest in life. He seemed to be fading a bit, but I took it as aging, and thought it was normal for a man in his mid-70's to be slowing down a bit.
Through July, Bill complained that his shoulder was bothering him, below the blade....the boxes he had moved in the garage were thought to be the cause of a muscle strain, but rest, painkillers, and the passage of time had not helped. Finally, on the last day of vacation, when we had walked on the beach for the last time before we packed for our flight home, he said his back no longer hurt, but his leg was numb.
We wasted no time seeing the doctor as soon as we returned. A CAT scan and MRI confirmed the doctor's suspicions that there was something more than a strained muscle. The next day a diagnosis of lung cancer with two metastatic lesions on the spine sent Bill to the first of 10 palliative radiation treatments to alleviate the pain and shrink the tumor that threatened to invade the spinal canal. The cancer was inoperable and incurable, and chemotherapy was our only hope for prolonging life.
Three weeks in a rehab center passed while we sought other opinions. We drove to Mayo clinic, where the doctors concurred with the original diagnosis, and denied Bill the surgery that he believed would save his life. Crushed, but still optimistic that chemotherapy would be successful, we returned to Chicago to try to strengthen our warrior for the battle of his life.
We never got to chemotherapy. The attending physician suggested higher doses of Vicodin with morphine. When this was inadequate, we sought the services of the "pain clinic" recommended at the hospital. The "clinic" turned out to be a single phsysician who worked only two days a week. After much agonizing trial and error, we finally sought hospice.
Hospice was our salvation, as I could no longer lift Bill onto the wheelchair, to the bed, and to the bathroom for his frenzied need to be in constant motion. Hospice got the pain and edema under control, and kept him comfortable.We did our best to remain with him around the clock, and aftter a couple weeks in the palliative care unit, we were finally able to bring him home, his final wish. He died four months after diagnosis and five days after our departure from the hospital.
Life would never, never be close to the same.Life for all of us was transformed "overnight", a few short months that seemed life mere hours in retrospect, and like a lifetime while we were experiencing them.
That time will forever remain a full and rich source of reflection for me and for our sons.
