2023 was supposed to be a good year. It really was. It was going to be my first full year married to my wife whom i loved so very much, it was going to be the first year in my new house. I had come off of the best thanksgiving i had ever had, and remember having a pretty good Christmas as well. But then things twisted. Looking back on it now, it really started to change just after Thanksgiving.
One year ago, on November 28th i lost a dear, dear friend of mine from high school to addiction. Like everything we don’t understand it’s so easy to blame the addict and look down upon them, but Addiction is a form of mental illness. It’s a need in your body and your mind that you can’t control. It spurs you to do things that you wouldn’t normally do in order to find that missing piece.
I understand that. I’m not an alcoholic, i’m not a drug addict, but i have that missing piece. I have that part of me that doesn’t feel like it fits in that is in constant need. Part of the reason i don’t drink, and have always avoided Hard drugs, is because when i do drink, when i do feel my mind slip away, i like it. I like that feeling of suddenly not having to worry. Of everything being just gone.
A few years back my mom had colon cancer. When i spoke to my doctor about it, he decided that i shouldn’t wait until i was 50 to get a colonoscopy that i really never planned on doing, but that i should get it now instead. Needless to say, i didn’t do it. I let it go. It seemed pointless and our deaths are an ambiguous form so far off in the future.
And then my friend passed away. So last year between Christmas and New Years i went to his funeral and i said good by. I felt responsible in some ways, because i always knew he was in trouble, but my own history of mental physical and some time sexual abuse with my first wife kept me from helping. I was too worried about keeping myself moving for my kids, and didn’t have the time or the energy to help him.
So his passing kept weighing on me. I kept thinking about it, and finally, a month after he passed i picked up the phone and scheduled my colonoscopy. It was a surreal experience. You go in, they drug you, and you wake up a few hours later with a napkin shoved up your butt and your crack filled with goo.
I clearly remember my last thought before going out. Don Maclanes American Pie was playing over the loud speakers, and just as i closed my eyes the line, “This will the day that i day” echoed through the room. I thought to myself, well that’s ominous, and was out. I woke up a few hours later, my lovely wife next to me, i remember smiling at her and thinking how beautiful she was and trying to make some sort of lame joke, but i wasn’t together enough to remember what it was.
They cleaned me up, put my clothes back on and the doctor came in. Getting told you have cancer doesn’t happen like it does in the movies. They don’t sit you down in an office to go over the results and prepare you for the worst a week later. Instead the doctor sits down as your still cleaning up, announces he looked over your tests and very matter of fact, mentions that he found a lump and that it’s cancer and just keeps talking.
I don’t know that i have this line of events 100% correct, i had just gotten out of anesthesia, but the doctor kept talking and i kept nodding, every once in a while looking over at my wife to see if her face gave way any clues as to weather or not i really heard him say i have cancer. Eventually he left, and i don’t remember if it was in the car or before we left, but i turned to Jaime and asked, “Did he just say i have cancer?”
She said yes, and i believe their were some tears.
That started a super stressful several months on us as we dealt with that, and the Jaime’s ex and so many other pressures. When we finally got to the surgery it went well even though the hospital stay was hell at least partially because the bed i was in had an air leak and i woke up in tremendous pain every morning because during the night i’d sink down to the metal frame and be in so much pain i couldn’t move.
As much strain as that put on the marriage it only got worse when my wife lost her job while i was still in the hospital, or just out. Our dynamic changed so much over the summer, but i couldn’t see it because i was so focused on what i was going through and dealing with my new friend gary, the colostomy bag.
And, in the middle of all that my kid did something stupid in a park and got in trouble with the local police that just added more stress. I found it hilarious that they were looking at this little wisp of a kid and calling him a felon, my wife did not.
Now, this whole time Jaime was dealing with her own health issues that were causing her problems, and just putting more and more stress. It’s really no wonder we eventually hit a breaking point.
About the time i went back to work, Jaime also went back to work. It’s not my place to go into, but sadly that did not work out, and that job went away just as I was coming out of the hospital for the second time, which ultimately lead to her health issues and you can read her blog if you want to know about that.
The time between surgeries was not a pleasant time for me. When they told me i’d have a temporary colostomy bags i had a list of fears, and almost every single one of them came true. The bag popped in the night when i rolled over on it. The seals kept coming loose because it was too close to my belly button. The amount of mornings i woke up covered in my own feces….
It was horrible and i’m glad to see it go.
Just after i got it off though, Jaime, my sadly soon to be ex wife, had some health issues of her own and decided she would be better off moving forward without me. You will not hear me say a negative word about her. I loved her dearly, and even though i’m moving on part of me always will. We fit a lot into three years.
And, in the middle of that, my youngest had to spend some time in a hospital just after Jaime left.
Impostor syndrome is such a weird thing. I had cancer. I was diagnosed with Cancer. Yet, i have a very hard time calling myself a cancer survivor. I got as absolutely lucky as I could possibly be and still say that i had cancer. I keep wanting the minimize what i went through. But the truth of the matter is, had my friend not passed away, I would have never found out and this probably would have killed me eventually.
But i still try and shrug it off and move on. The recovery from the colostomy bag removal has been worse on me than the recovery from the cancer, even though they are two parts of the same whole. I had part of my rectum removed so i’m still learning how to poop right and dealing with all that. Its like quarantine again. I can leave the house, but i can’t go to far lest i can’t find a bathroom in time.
The toll on my life that the cancer took though wasn’t just on my body. it was on my whole life. Would i be getting divorced if it wasn’t for the stress caused by the cancer? Who knows. I still feel weak, i still feel shaky because i can’t eat like want to and all i do is work now. I can’t go back to that life, i need a new job, i need more money, and i don’t want to be alone.
Side note, a could of recent developments pretty much secure that the last month of 2023 ain’t going to be a good one either.
I wouldn’t say that the Cancer has changed my outlook on life, it has just made so many things harder, and harder to deal with. I’m 48. If i life to 75, and honestly living much older does not sound great, but if i do, that means I’m 2/3rds of the way through. Not going to lie, that two thirds hasn’t been great. It’s had great moments, but mostly, its been pretty bad. I’m done. I’m so done. I’m done wanting things to get better. At this point they have to get better. I need them to if i’m going to survive long enough to get my kid out into the world, He’s seen some awful stuff so far, and i need him to see that it can be good. I need him to see that i can be good.
I don’t know how to do what i need to do. My mental image is in such tatters now between my first wife, and now some elements of the second marriage coming to an end that i just don’t know what to do. I can’t look at myself and figure out what i can do. I look at job listings and think, I’m not smart enough to do that. I’m not good enough to do that. I go to swipe on some one in an app and i think, nah. She or He, they have too much going on. They want some one better. Some one who is worth their time.
I’m not writing this to get sympathy. I’m not writing this so people will stroke my ego and ask me what type of job i’m looking for… I don’t know. I don’t know how to do anything. I don’t know how to get my writing to some one who would actually read it, i don’t know how to meet some one even to just watch a movie with. I spent my entire life in panic mode just trying to keep the plates afloat, and then found myself where i didn’t need to do that only to keep have the rug pulled out from under me over and over again.
I’m writing out of frustration. I’m sending my words into the night as a lay in the grass crippled with terror and pain unable to move just waiting for something, anything to come by and offer me a hand up and brush me off and let me know it will be okay. To let me know i’m not an abject failure in every thing.
I need this sadness to end.
“There is a sadness in this world, for we are ignorant of many things. Yes, we are ignorant of many beautiful things – things like the truth. So sadness, in our ignorance, is very real. The tears are real.” – Margaret lanterman, the Log Lady, played by Catherine E Coulson.