Last night I had an epiphany of sorts. Sam hardly said a word to me all day and had his headphones on listening to music while watching football. At first I misunderstood the situation thinking that he was attempting to completely ignore me. However, after watching him for awhile, it suddenly dawned on me he was practicing pain management skills taught to him through the palliative care program at Providence. I asked him how he was doing and for the first time, he told me he was in a great deal of pain. The immediate change in my attitude was amazing. It was a complete turnaround from being sad, disgusted, angry, scared and all those negative emotions, to being empathetic, concerned, caring - emotions and feelings I seemed to have lost the past couple months reappeared. I do not want Sam to be in pain. Having him tell me straight up that he is in a great deal of pain tells me he is in more pain than you and I can ever imagine because he has an incredible pain threshold. As to exactly where this pain is, he did not tell me; however, it is probably throughout his entire body which leads me to my thoughts today.
Helen getting fishing tips from her dad at Bird Creek. |
Sam's PET scan is Wednesday and we are scheduled to receive the results on Thursday. Sam will then be faced with making a decision based on the results, the doctor's recommendations, and hopefully a discussion with me. No matter my opinion, though, it is entirely up to him as to where we go from here. Throughout the past 3 years, Sam has maintained he does not want to live in pain. Initially we discussed in-depth the options, including moving back to Oregon or Washington where assisted suicide is legal, researching the pros and cons of medical marijuana (which is not available to purchase in Alaska, you have to grow your own and needless to say, that is where I put my foot down at the time), morphine in some form, or whatever is available. The bottom line is he does not want to live in a world of pain. Today at work, I shared my tears and my fears with some of my co-workers and because I do not want to cry again right now, I am not going to write any more on this subject tonight. There will be plenty of time later to share whatever route he chooses to take.
Tonight he does seem to be in a much better mood, thank goodness. I prayed long and hard over the weekend for the anger to subside and I am hoping it has. It will take some time for the chemo to work its way through his body and I just need to remember to be patient.
So many of you have called, written, emailed, texted, whathaveyou, and I greatly appreciate every bit of it. It certainly has made it a little easier to handle and I am slowly starting to accept my marriage will never be the same again, no matter what. But that does not mean I do not love Sam any less. In fact, I probably love him more because that is about the only thing I can do.
q'ua
Hi, Dara; After reading your (Sam's?) blog this morning I had some real insight into my own situation. My stuff is rather different from Sam's in some ways, but alike in many others. The cancer is still localized in the prostate, but ready to metastasize at any moment if the hormones fail. So Sam is well ahead of my pain and treatment curve.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I have some outside issues that are messing up the track. I am quite diabetic, insulin dependent. My spine has been through some real trauma. I have 8 disks which have de-generated from trauma, and need surgery. However, the neurosurgeon can not fix them all just now. One vertebra was crushed and mangled many years ago (65). Following that, I probably saved my own life by keeping my neck and lower back strong. My spine ligament case is about three times the size one typically is.
My heart is fairly strong now, but I do have a strong case of a-fib, which hits almost every day. Most of my rib cage hits me almost daily with arthritis and psoriasis. The pain in my ribs almost doubles me over.
Yet many things you list as being part of Sam's picture are mine as well, and your knowledge helps me understand what is going on.
I probably will not die of cancer, but I cannot say the same of my heart a-fib. Yet it took me 65 years to get any doctor to recognize the a-fib and treat it. And it took a little less to finally get an orthopedist to study my spine after I fell off a roof and landed on the back of my neck. And so on with the arthritis and joints.
Now, the point of all this. When you mention the confusion in Sam's consciousness, I feel it in my relationships. Donella tries to be strong, and helpful, because when that confusion hits, I am often at a real loss as to how to cope. When the pain is strong, it is as if a thousand cockroaches with knives and needles are digging into my body. The frustrations of not being able to pee without an irrigation siphon is hard to accept, but there is nothing Donella can do about it.
Anyway, the pain and confusion are there constantly. This morning I woke up in a strong sweat, and lots of pain in my lower back, hips and knees. It is nothing as strong as Sam's, I am sure, but it surely is a problem to me.