fuck you, cancer

[Jarochai Alabaster]

Give me my husband back. This is agony.

[Harlowe]

Oh no, I'm so sorry Jaro. I'm hoping that there are some close friends or family members with you right now that you can lean on. There is nothing in the world that could make that kind of agony any easier, but they can be a source of strength to help you get through each day and deal with each obstacle. My thoughts are with you and your husband and all the loved ones around you that this is touching.

[Jarochai Alabaster]

Jake was diagnosed almost exactly a year ago - March 4th. The day after his 32nd birthday. We caught the cancer before he was symptomatic of it in any way - it was a kidney stone that landed him in the hospital, and the tumors showed on the x-ray. Metastatic colon cancer.

All the chemotherapies failed. Radio embolisms didn't put a dent in the liver metastasis's growth. About a month ago he began getting short of breath and weak. He couldn't get around the house like he used to. It turned out to be a pleural effusion - fluid in the pleural sac surrounding his right lung. We (Rather I) drained the fluid at home for a week in anticipation of a procedure to fix the issue. We had a wedding date set for June 6th. We decided to hop over to Iowa and get the marriage certificate immediately rather than wait. We did that March 3rd - Jake's 33rd birthday. It exhausted him, and he slept the rest of the day once we got home.

When he went in for the surgery, they found metastasis all over inside his chest cavity. He was, by this point, wasting away because the cancer was claiming all the energy his body was producing. He only had a handful of good lucid moments after the procedure. We planned to get him home. Wednesday morning, around 4am, he woke up and tried to get up. I asked him what he needed. He said "I want to go home." I told him we were going to get him home tomorrow. He said "No, now." This was the last thing he ever said to me.

The equipment was delivered to our house Wednesday afternoon. We were going to move Jake Thursday morning. When the hospice nurse came into the room to wake me, she said he wasn't stable enough to move. I promised him no one could keep me from taking him home when the time came, but we couldn't move him without certainly killing him. We piled all his friends and family into his hospital room all day Thursday. We told stories. We laughed and cried. We played music that he loved. And late in the afternoon/early evening, we took off his oxygen and he slipped away from us.

All of that was the worst of it. It's past us now, except for his parents. I cannot imagine their grief. I know I will heal and go on because Jake left me with enough strength and confidence to do so. He taught me how to make sense of the world. I told his mother today that in the absence of the children we had planned to raise, I would be Jake's legacy. He practically pulled me out of the gutter. He saved me in every way that one human being can save another, and I will never forget him. His family is grateful for the joy his union with me brought him, for the handful years we were together. I have more than enough love and support to get through this, not the least of which is and always will be from Jake himself.

[Harlowe]

That just hurts my heart, he sounds like an amazing person that gave you such a wonderful gift and he was also blessed to have someone who loved him this dearly. I know you'll carry that forward. There is no way not to have your life forever changed by someone that lifts you up like that. There is also no way to look at life as anything less than a precious gift, and appreciate those around you that much more after going through such a profound and sad loss.

I hope the future gives you some brighter days and many opportunities to share what this relationship gave you. I also hope the heaviness on your heart lifts a little bit each day. (hugs)

[Ddrak]

It's awesome to hear how much happiness you brought each other in the short time given, and it's great to hear you were able to get married. Having said that, cancer sucks, but the pain will pass and the good memories outlast the bad (this weird effect is the only reason women have more than one child as well). Good to hear you have a decent support network - never be afraid to use it because they all want you to come through this for both your sake's.

Fuck you, cancer, indeed.

Dd

[Mukik]

I agree

fuck you , cancer

[calleagh]

so very sorry to hear this. my thoughts and prayers go out to you and his family.

[Morbidd]

This is a very sad story. I'm really sorry for your loss

Morbs

[Xican]

Sorry to hear about all this, Jaro. I've lost a lot of family to cancer and I'm sure nothing a faceless jerk like me on the internet can say to help you through it, but if you ever need an ear or anything, feel free to shoot me a PM. Sometimes, it's just nice to vent.

Cancer is a fucking cunt.

[Arathena]

I'm truly sorry, Jaro, and I hope, in time, his memory brings you peace and warmth for as long as you should live.

[Taxious]

I'm sorry to hear about that Jaro. Let me know if I can help with anything, even if it's just a video game distraction.