I think it has finally hit me.
My gorgeous husband Sam was diagnosed with soft tissue sarcoma in 2006 after having a lump removed from his thigh that he had had for as long as he could remember. We first met in 2003 in Glasgow where we were on a course together. We both worked for the same organisation. I am a Welfare Officer and sitting in the bar on our first night he told me that his son had died due to cancer, aged 9, the previous September. My heart went out to him and we spent most of that evening talking. I admired his resilience and abitlity to carry on with an outwardly normal life. Following our return to Northern Ireland we kept in contact and he put alot of work my way, referring his members of staff to me who needed assistance. I spent hours in his office, just enjoying his company. We shared our problems, he was going through a difficult divorce, and i a difficult marriage. In December 2004 my husband left after having an affair. I am ashamed to say this is something I had wished for for many years, at last after 18 long years i was free from a suffocating and demoralising relationship. Sam was very supportive throughout this time and in January 2005 I invited myself round to his house, my daughter was staying with her Dad and I wanted to enjoy some free time. I intended to stay a couple of hours, I ended up leaving at 8 a.m after talking the whole night through. I had never been with someone who was so interested in what I had to say, or who was so interesting to listen to. And so began the most wonderful time of my life. I feel so at ease with Sam. This is how love should feel. We have complete confidence in each other, conversation is so easy, and so is silence. Sam is who I have been looking for all my life. He was proud to show me the lump in his leg that he could move around, it was his party trick. He had been for a biopsy but not received the results. After pressure from me he got an appointment with his orthopaedic consultant who couldn't find the results. She agreed to try to remove the lump as it was causing Sam pain and restricting his movement. She said that there was a risk he may not be able to walk after the op due to it being deep in his thigh muscle and if it looked too difficult to remove when she opened him up she would just sew him up again. She woke him in recovery, excited that she had removed the lump in one piece and she said that she had delivered smaller babies. She asked to use it for medical research. 8 weeks later we attended for a review, and discharge, appointment. We expected to hear that the wound had healed well, Sam was walking much easier, and as far as we were concerned the problem was solved and life could only get better. How wrong we were. The consultant could hardly get the words out. The lump she had been so proud of removing was a tumour. She had not removed it as a tumour and therefore Sam was to get radiotherapy to kill any cells she had left behind. And so our nightmare began. Radiotherapy followed by enormous blisters on Sam's leg which drew nurses from all around as no-one had seen them to that extent before. A review scan revealed secondary cancer on his lungs, chemotherapy followed. There were so many small lumps they couldn't operate. The chemotherapy stopped the rapid growth of the lumps. A later scan revealed spread to Sam's bones in his neck, more radiotherapy. Next was his lower back, then his left eye socket. The good news was this tumour caused his eye to bulge outwards instead of backwards into his brain. More radotherapy. we are at the stage now where pain management is the only option. Sam is still going up and down stairs, against medical advice. One false move and his spinal cord could be severely damaged, he is determined to keep his independence. When I spoke to his consultant in Feb he told me that he didn't expect to still be seeing Sam then, he cannot understand how he is still here. Still here he is. We married in on 29th Feb 2008. The happiest day of my life, and the saddest. Until the diagnosis I was looking forward to growing old with Sam. Something I had never envisaged in my first marriage. I knew Sam and I would always be together, it was just so easy. I saw us sitting by the sea eating chips, cooking together, going places together, just enjoying each others company. Sam has every confidence in me, since i moved into his house I have taken down a solid concrete wall between the dining room and kitchen, built a new kitchen and various other diy jobs, all because Sam says I can. It has all been under his expert direction.
We are now at the stage where he has to decide whether to stay upstairs or downstairs. The stairs are becoming more and more painful for him. He will not go into hospital. He has been admitted a couple of times and not eaten or slept. Home is where he wants to be and everyone is supportive of that. Downstairs has it's problems, so does upstairs. Where-ever it is I will be.
I miss him so much. All that we had and all that we planned. We have photo's around the house of when he was fit and able to do all he wanted to do. I feel so sad when i look at them. I cannot imagine the frustration Sam must feel of spending day after day in his reclining chair when he was so active. I miss the closeness we had. Of going shopping together, Of getting in the car and just driving. His life is now a neverending round of tablets, alarms set on my phone for the next lot of medication. Sam refuses to give up, for that I am grateful, but I am also so sorry that this is how his life is. Sam has been through so much, losing his son, a painful divorce and now finally being settled in his life and free to do all he wishes but physically he can't. Sam spends most of day sleeping and then annoyed with himself for sleeping the day away.
If only I hadn't pushed him to get the lump removed from his leg maybe he wouldn't have got the secondaries in his lungs and bones. But then maybe it would have spread anyway and we wouldn't have known until too late.
We must enjoy our time together, no matter how short. By all accounts it has already been much longer than expected, thankfully no-one has a crystal ball.
