Tag: Conditions and Diseases

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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Save Me

Sanjay Sabarwal
by Jemal Yarbrough

Surrounded by books like You are What You Eat to What to Eat Before, During and After Cancer Treatment, it hits me that Cancer has given me a life I thought impossible.  Scattered on the bed are various notes and business cards from the dozens we have consulted in the medical field but still we do not and cannot know enough.  We are still ignorant as to what is about to come, and in some ways you could say in denial. Shoved aside to the side are the many Christmas presents we bought for our families and friends, but they lay ignored and unwrapped in another room, waiting perhaps for one of my relatives to take pity and finally put then in beautiful wrapping paper. It would appear from all of this that emptiness resides in our lives, but you would be dead wrong.

 

Along with the horrible, Cancer also gave me the improbable:  a wonderful wife.  I hadn’t dared to dream that the beautiful person who affected my life and soul would now be my life partner.  Strange, how the proliferation of some body cells can melt away 4 years of “hell no’s” and resistance to the idea of us getting married.  Funny, how I can be accepted into a household where my name couldn’t even be mentioned, and break bread.  You would think I would be filled with resentment or, worse, anger, but neither has a place in my heart.  I will not and cannot allow the past to corrupt my present and future.  As if by magic, I have allowed the cancer of peace and acceptance to fill our families rather than use it to destroy what’s left.  There is only room for love and forgiveness.  In a matter of days, we are going to be tied to each other for life, officially that is.  I had accepted her in my life a long time ago, something I wish I had told her a while ago.  I cannot bear the thought that she thinks it’s because of Cancer but only because it’s is true on the surface.  But she needs to know what I mean: Cancer gave me the courage to talk to her family.  I finally did what I have not been able to put my foot down and rightfully claim what’s mine.

 

There are some who would not see this as any victory, and some may even opine that now that’s sick her family agreed just to save face.  I would counter that even if that’s true, the victory is still mine.  I have her, and in the end that’s all that matters.  They say people come into your life for a reason or a season perhaps even to teach a lesson.  Preeti is all of the above, she makes the person I want to be, the person I see myself to be. I know the road ahead is potted with long hours, and perhaps fights and definite exhaustion but Cancer needs to know it has fucked with the wrong people.  It obviously doesn’t know her anger or my strength.  Together, we are unbeatable.  You have been warned, Cancer.

 

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Quiet Cancer:

Sanjay Sabarwal
Hear and Now
Image via Wikipedia

It is quiet in here.  Wait, that;s not exactly true, let me rephrase.  It’s quiet enough that I hear the satisfying click of words being typed on this page.  So  different type of quiet.  If I strain enough, I can hear the dog gently snoring in the next room, moving occasionally to get more comfortable.  There’s not enough light in my room or life now to brighten my writing area so I have resorted to turning on all the lights in the house yet 500 watts still seems dim.  I may never brighten.

Sat and struggled with the final piece for my writing class, and realized the fight was not based on what to write, or how to write but if I should.  Bulb went off in my head, and the words materialized below

The room was quiet except for the noise of cancer in our lives. I opened my eyes, and felt strange and unfamiliar until I realized I was staring at the ceiling. I had been sleeping for over 5 hours. My mind had lied to me.  My heart pounded for something selfish and non-existent.  I had dreamt not of my love but of myself. The smug clock said 7:16 am.  Nothing chirped but it felt like it.  The bathroom dripped some watery noises as if digesting a bad meal.  Darkness was losing its daily battle to the sun, yet still had strong footholds in the distance. I looked upon her not five feet away, surrounded by confident machines on a bed not meant for resting.

 

Cancer is the body lying to itself.  It is perhaps one of the few illnesses where the body will destroy itself by creating so much of itself that the body cannot contain it. Physically, the cancer had grown in her body, but it had infected our lives.  I was no longer disoriented, but disillusionment filled our room. I hoped the room would spin again, and perhaps I could enter the darkness and pretend that it was I lying on the bed and not her but dreaming did not make reality.

 

I gazed at her, willing her to breathe.  Breathe away the anger, the past, the arguments, and the many wasted moments regretting what was not to be.  Breathe in the love surrounding her.  Breathe in thoughts that would remove the enemy in her.  I wanted to take control of her body so it could get angry at the unwanted stranger and calmly ask the perversion to leave. I lasered my thoughts on to her, but the quietness of the cancer had already enveloped our lives.   Breath.

 

 

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Life Failed: Love/Family Did Not

Sanjay Sabarwal
By Jemal Yarbrough

I am not Sanjay Sabarwal, co-owner of Ziba Beauty.  I am not a lawyer.  I am not a promoter.  I am not a double major from UCLA.  I am not a columnist.  I am not a former volunteer at the Lexington Juvenile detention center in Kentucky.  I am not a past political intern.  NCTE) I am not a stroke victim.  I am not familiar with cancer.

I am not,  I am not, I am not any of these facts.  All my life, even at this moment, I have believed I was destined to be something greater; more significant, a personality. Focusing only on my desires and wants, I forgot how to be.  Spending energy (and credit cards) to showcase a life imagined by many but afforded by few, I drowned my soul painfully.  Surrounded by many gadgets and the must of my dog (her dog), I became empty, a negative, a compilations of could be’s, would be’s, should-be’s, would’ve’s.

So who am I?  Perhaps that’s not as an interesting a question as what I am.  I am part of a love that I did not think possible, that I had heard of and seen in fiction.  After 4 years, her face is still the first image projected onto my thoughts.  Her eyes an amazing greenish-yellow, rivaling those of cats (domestic and otherwise), her temper and stubbornness exasperating but befitting the queen she has the potential to be.

Then there is my family, my energy trough where I go to replenish myself.  I draw my strength from them like a greedy gambler who can’t get enough. I steal their inspiration and good wishes so I can face the cannot’s and will not’s in my life.  I use their love and faith in me to see myself.  It is then I become Sanjay Sabarwal.

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Cancer of Words: A Blog Post

Sanjay Sabarwal
Cyclops projecting an optic blast. Art by Jack...
Image via Wikipedia

The words just sit there.  The guilt sits behind them.  Yet nothing moves.  I plead with the clock to slow down, to let me gather whatever’s lying around so I do not feel like a fraud.  Yet nothing comes.  It is as if I am spent from fighting the cancer in my beloved, and while the movie reel in my head sputters along, the projection screen is blank.

I can’t stop thinking of writing, and seeing every conversation as potential dialogue.  It’s as if my body is become one huge receptacle for ideas and possible stories.  Yet I want it to stop.  I feel like Scott Summers from the Xmen, unless I put some glasses on, I can’t stop the lasers from destroying the world near m me.

Just stop, I beg regretting ever having starting this muse yet it grows just like the enemy in my love.  Her body betrayed her and now I feel like my mind is doing the same.  The words keep growing and I pray they don’t spread to my hands because I need the energy and the strength to by her side. 

I want nothing except for her.  She is my life. Without her, I am just another person, but together we become one unit that can take on the world.  But we have been let down by our bodies, hers turning against her and making her wonder what she did to deserve this and mine seeing everything as a reason to write. 

But both of us are wrong.  All we is the present and blame worry sadness don’t belong because the reality is we will both survive, one as a writer and one as former cancer patient.  That is our new reality.  It doesn’t take anything away from us, it just has made us a thousand times stronger. 

While we will kill one cancer, we will allow another one to spread so it can kill the doubts worries and sadness in others.  In hindsight, maybe being an X Man, isn’t such a bad thing.