Category: Cancer

Cancer, Myself, Preeti

Living for Today: My New Blog Post

Sanjay Sabarwal

 

by Jemal Yarbrough

 

A beautiful morning, sun bathing the room so much so that I wonder if I have ever seen it like this before. Then it hits that the sun is lighting up what’s inside me, and I smile.  And I smile some more because the external radiation and chemo are done.  Gone is the not knowing, the fear, the constant ache of “will she be ok?”  Don’t get me wrong, I am not looking past the fact that she has internal coming up, but Cancer cannot make us ignorant or scared anymore.  The big bad wolf has turned out to be a mere shadow that we magnified in our mind.

I cannot help but soak in the sun, letting it breath into me more strength for her.  The burden has gotten lighter, we are beginning to see the end of this trial, and for once can actually discuss the future rather than future appointments, can actually look forward to the weekends as a real break rather just something to give her some breathing room, can plan to run a household rather than worry if the house is poisoning her somehow.

Still, I cannot get rid of some of my hurts, while looking forward to the new joys.  I miss some greatly while others with a tinge of regret wondering where it all went wrong, and others just not ready to be there for us, and that’s fine.  I love them all, but I am also cautious, I know now that some were unfairly put on high pedestals and some pushed off too swiftly.  So I sit here and learn while the sun continues to fuel me, make appreciate what I have and love, and I know of only one certainty and that is today.  What is it that I can do today that represents, us, and our family.  What is it that I can do in the next moments to just make it a little easier or fun for us.  So I sit here, smile and feed hungrily off the sun waiting for inspiration, oh wait, the better word would be knowledge or perhaps just accept that it was meant to be that my car came back the same day the major part of the treatment ended.

All that time worrying just really wasted because what was meant to happen, did, and what wasn’t just  resided in the endless loop of thoughts in my head.  So I breathe out slowly, the worries, the fears, the not knowing, and revel in the moment, just enjoying the day, the moment, the realization that we will get through this, that we already have, that what I needed was always there, I just didn’t want to see it that way.

However, (is there always one)  I know that there is much to be done, much for us to do, to travel, perhaps finally get on a plane together, but more than that for me to get back to work.  That’s really the strange part, I miss it, and finally know what I am meant do there.  I never thought I would say that, but looking at myself through my family’s eyes made me realize that I can be general counsel, and the fears and doubts (particularly the lact of confidence) were my own creations.  I was my own hurdle.  I had convinced myself that I would never learn but worse that I couldn’t learn, but the previous months of reading and writing made me realize how much I miss the law, and why I fell in love in the first place  I also know what kind of lawyer I cant stand, and there are many attorneys who exploit California law to just make money for themselves while claiming to be consumer attorneys.  I no longer will let my ignorance be the reason, my business suffers.  No more.  It’s time to discard the uniform of “I don’t know” and don on “I will get back to you on this.”

Funny, what a few months of cancer can do to you.  Instead of sapping us of our energy and will, it has renewed it. So thank you cancer, for making me realize what is truly important.  I owe you one but I wont ever like you, and one more thing: fuck you.  Sorry, but your just really not forgivable.  Besides, it’s you who gets my negative emotions or others, and I choose you.  You are my big bad wolf, my enemy, my bad versus good.  So deal with it.  I will be celebrating when you die, and I will dance on your grave.  You maybe “the emperor of all maladies” but you have no clothes.

 

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Prayers, Friends and Family

Sanjay Sabarwal
Goodenough, PhD
Image via Wikipedia

 

by Jemal Yarbrough

 

In the fading light of the day, I say a small prayer for my friend’s father who passed away 2 nights ago.  The house is quiet as usual, and she rests uneasily but expectantly for the nausea to follow.  A friend had just visited, the  worry lines creased deep into her forehead due to the recent seizure experienced by her little brother. 2011 seems to be foreboding, and I wonder if more bad news is to come.

But that really is the easy way out.  What is it about a series of bad events that makes us believe that we are unlucky or somehow cursed?  I close my eyes and see my family, and nothing but joy gratitude and loves comes into my soul.  There is not a single relative that I don’t love with all my heart and soul.  It almost seems like heresy to believe that I have the perfect family.  I know my love for them is imperfect because I do not thank God or revel in my blessings of having a truly amazing family enough.  I would daresay that my family is worlds better than the ones I hear about in fictional novels.  I have the ULTIMATE FAMILY, and their wondrous love and prayers are the reason I can sit here clacking away while she struggles with her pain.

Their thoughts and prayers are the reason I know with all my heart and soul that this too shall pass.  That this stupid Cancer is merely a minor bump on the long road of life.  And I pray even harder.  Pray for my blessings, pray that I am at the unfortunate cross roads to hear about friends parents dying, sibling suffering uncalled for pain,  and it makes me ache for my mom and dad who are merely a block away from me physically but always reside in my heart.  I fall in love each time my sisters come over or her brothers do.  Her mom’s pain reverberates in my heart, and I wish I could inhale all their worry and fear.  So I thank God yet again for joining us with them.  For giving us real soldiers so we can mercilessly kill the killer.

And then I come to my friends.  I always thought I had a few good friends, but this recent adventure of ours has introduced me to an amazing soul:Biba, who has selflessly given her time and energy to heal the love of my life.  She made the chemo session seem as just a routine doctor’s visit and I do not think I can ever thank enough.  And then there are others who think they can achieve comfort by merely texting or leaving quick voice mails.  Don’t get me wrong the concern is real but it’s minuscule as if the disease she’s batting is minor or one that can fit in 140 characters or less.   The sad part is that healing her takes nothing more than their physical contact but it’s treated as if  she’s not worth that.  And it hurts.  But we move on because we have to, and we will remember.  They are the past, and the future we have looks brighter due to the shining souls in our life.  The rest of them can take their indifferent asses back to Facebook, Twitter and texts, and become as irrelevant as the social media horse they rode in on.

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Caretaker

Sanjay Sabarwal
1987 Ativan advertisement. "In a world wh...
Image via Wikipedia

Last night was the first time I laid down to bed with a heavy heart not because of her because I already had failed at my promise to post every day.  Although I tried to intellectualize it by claiming I wrote the post in my mind, I could not get past that feeling to not  write is something I can no longer accept.  Actually, I started the post with a bit of a  lie because my soul was heavy because once again the word “Caretaker” had been flung at me, and once again I was made to feel that nothing I do was good enough.  While others were thanked for their time, I was derided for stuffing medicines down her throat and leaving her in a dark room. After more than 2 days feeling like I was at fault, I realized she was right.  In my effort to control the disease by making her as physically comfortable as possible, I had lost sight that a hug could more than Zofran, Ativan or Compazine could ever do.  The problem really was my reluctance between comforting her with medications versus just laying down with her.

The truth is I am scared to see her so uncomfortable and instead of asking the easy question of “Are you Ok?”, I inevitably ask “Do you need medicine?”  I am substituting science for compassion, and I see now that the medicine really is more for me than for her. It is the only way I feel like I can fight the effects of Chemotherapy, but it’s not working.  If I was really honest with myself, she is doing extremely well considering the toxins in her body, and actually handling everything quite well.  I just keep expecting things to get worse  and at the first sign of a grimace, I use the medicine bottles as a shield.

The part that hurts most is the ease with which she thanks others for their care and concern, while I stand across a seemingly un-crossable divide of being the help.  I thought I could be a caregiver, a husband but instead in my fear and haste to make her feel better. I relegated myself to the realm of servitude rather than gratitude.

Cancer, Journal, Myself, Preeti

Robo Husband AKA Running Diary on Days 3,4,5,6

Sanjay Sabarwal
Cover of "Robocop"
Cover of Robocop

 

By Jemal Yarbrough

 

Today was one of her good days, and the old beautiful smile of hers returned as well as the desire to put something of substance in her stomach instead of my constant pleas to eat.  I also learned that the fear of the many horrors they told us about had not manifested yet, and I thanked God for the break in schedule.  Instead of a full week full of anxiety dreading the side effects, we got a small dosage of what was to come, and for that I am thankful.

I have much to learn that much I realize now and accept.  While a chance comment from one of her dear friends that I was a “robo husband” hurt my feelings for a second, the reality was that it hurt because it was true.  I am constantly struggling between being a caregiver rather than a caretaker.  I know for her what’s more important is not someone who can attend to all her physical needs but someone who can replenish her with love and care (a gentle reminder from another good friend of hers).

I am not going to lie, that’s exactly what I am scared of.  Between constantly wanting her to be comfortable and trying to provide her all the comforts of the world, I am worried I am not up to the task, that what I am doing is hollow and meaningless.  This is no longer someone who is sick, but my wife and we are going to spend the rest of our lives together.  What scares me is not knowing what will happen, and when the side effects will take form and then it hits me that I am again failing to be in the NOW.  I cannot control what she will go through nor can I stop the process.  And then it hits me that I have to be full myself before I can empty myself into her.  I need to do what makes me, ME or I will just remain a caretaker.

I know she knows that I love her deeply but the reality is I need to show it more than just feeding her medications at the right time or filling the fridge with her favorites.  I have to stop being robotic or worse just a caretaker.  I also see now that is how I am dealing with her pain, by compartmentalizing her into a schedule which does not allow for her to express her emotional pain and frustration.  I have to let her have the slice of pizza without the admonition to not put red peppers on it or take her medication as I scheduled.  I just have to let her be, let her get it out, whatever she is feeling because the cancer is not just physical, it’s also taken over her mind.  I cannot be a Robocop, not allowing her to go through all the motions she needs to in order to get a grasp of what has happened to her.

As I struggled with my guilt, I received a wonderful email from a stranger who encouraged me to go on, to keep on writing to figure out what we are going through and suddenly that one page email reminded me that I have all the tools to make her get through this and that is through friends, family but most importantly me (as self-important as that sounds).

And so a week ends, and we begin anew again tomorrow.  I think I know what I must do, and for now that is enough.

To the nameless friends and strangers who gave me the idea for this post: Thank You.

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Days 1 and 2: a running diary

Sanjay Sabarwal

I sit here after many days, tired from my mind incessantly shouting out different words to spin on to this space, but I resist not due to laziness or indifference but sheer exhaustion.   But I fought the urge for far too long so now I sit in front of this blank page of my life, snatching a few precious moments to spit while she battles the life saving drugs they have given her to move forward.  The irony is simple but deadly, you need to practically kill yourself to kill the killer inside.  In a way, she has to become a murderer of her body parts just so she can live.  The traitor must be punished and science has come a long way in battling “This Emperor of All Maladies” (ok so plugging the new book I am reading) but the treatment has victims, not just the one suffering but anyone the patient is close to.  I am so used to her smile but glimpses of that are becoming rarer.  The dreaded day finally came around when the campaign to save her began.  We were told 7 or 9 weeks, depending on which doctor we talked to.  So to be quite honest, we are not sure when the campaign will end but one thing was for certain: we had started.

Day 1 not much to report except, she walked in and by the time my mother in law and I sat down to get comfortable, she came out. Only 3 minutes of danger instead of 12 she reported.  Instead of coming out in a wheelchair, she walked out confidently, perplexed at our surprised faces.  Session 1 out of 28 completed in a mere 90 seconds.  The hope that perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad surging in our thoughts and prayers.

by Jemal Yarbrough

“You have such pretty hair” the nurse said, her accent thick from Asia and the smile slightly fake.  That made my girl smile, and I brightened up as well since any compliment made her flourish.

“Too bad, you’re going to lose it all.”  Our smiles froze, and I don’t think I could have hated a stranger so much so fast.  Welcome to Chemotherapy.  Where not only will we fill you with toxins, we will try to obliterate your self-esteem as well.  Although the word is scary and the side effects well-known, we weren’t prepared with the ease with which they pump the poison and chip away at the cancer.

After a mere 4.5 hours, she was ready to go home and starving.  Instead of the stereotypical nausea or vomiting, she was starving and ready to eat Chipotle and she did despite my misgivings (even though I was vastly relieved).

Almost 3 days now, I can say now with confidence that the only thing I am certain of is my fear and prayers that she get through this as painlessly and quickly as possible.  The sad reality is that in this quiet house we are in, just the two of us, I feel so utterly alone, I can hardly breathe.  The friends and family have been wonderful but as one of my best friends quite bluntly put it: it’s just the two of us, and whether we like it or not, we are in it for the long run.  Truth is, I am just scared and so is she.  I can’t even imagine her fear or pain, and I wish I could take it on.   But the battle has just begun, fear is just an emotion, something the mind just conjures.  Some may say its only Day 3 of 7 or 9 weeks, but to me we are already well on our way to get her getting better.  And in the end, that’s all that matters.

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Liar: A Blog Post

Sanjay Sabarwal

 

by Jemal Yarbrough

 

You lied to me” she accused me groggily, her eyes still heavy with the general anesthesia, dangerously pulling me to the brink of breaking down.  But the tears never made it to my eyes, I would not, could not let them.   All she saw was my smile, and the assurance that this phase was over.  What did the doctor say, she asked?  Babu, just rest and we can talk about it later.  Was not telling her a lie?  Yes it was, but it is a lie I will tell her over and over.  In this case, the truth would not set us free, the irony hitting me when I think about the friend I betrayed recently.  When is a lie ok, the right thing to do?  Now.  Always. When it involves her current fight with cancer.

The actions and emotion sof this week flutter around in my mind.  Words said, regrets swallowed, anger yelled, the many emotions of the body come up and I realize that we are just at the beginning of this very long road.  From a procedure that yielded one great hope, to getting hit by a guy running a red light, I realize life continues.  I cannot lie, I am scared yet in there is a voice growing stronger, saying we will get through this.  I know we can and we will. I can keep looking at the past, let the regrets pile up, the fear dominate my days, while watching her in pain and nausea or I can hold her, give her my strength, let her know, everything will be ok, no more lies, everything will be ok.  I will be a liar when needed but the there is only one truth: She will be fine.

 

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