Author’s Note
There it is again: the recurring message I have heard for many years from people in all aspects of my life—family, friends, doctors, acquaintances, people I’d just met, those I have known since birth—“Maura, you really should write a book.” The suggestion has been made in many different circumstances—when I was facing countless “rare” diagnoses of multiple family members, which all required dealing with specialists from many medical fields; when I had three kids with broken bones at the same time; when I was reeling from the tragic and untimely deaths of several close to me; when I was dealing with the daily activities of raising six kids; and when I was managing some of the twenty-five–plus surgeries, hospital stays, or injuries for Dave and the kids. In the big scheme of life, my story pales in comparison to the suffering of so many. But in our little world here, my story is far from the norm. I don’t even like meeting new people because something from one of the tragedies in my life will inevitably come up, and then I will have to tell the stories again and again. It’s much easier once people already know.
I have come to realize, though, that sharing my story might provide support for people facing tough life experiences, such as the trauma that accompanies a cancer diagnosis for yourself or a loved one; the hardship of caring for someone who is sick; living with or caring for someone with physical and/or mental health challenges and special needs; and the difficulty of being a patient yourself. If I can help someone else feel seen and understood when dealing with grief or a life that hasn’t gone as planned, I am happy to share my story.
It also finally hit me that I could honor my husband Dave’s horrific suffering and everything our kids endured at such young ages by sharing our story and, in the process, help relieve even an ounce of pain for someone else and bring some peace for our kids. In addition, it would provide the opportunity to pay forward the love and support we were shown, which the kids and I promised Dave we would do. My hope with this book is that I might be able to provide some comfort, peace, understanding, and support to someone else living through a crisis so they know they aren’t completely alone on their journey. It can be a lonely and hard road when the world seems to be going by around you, yet your world remains standing still as you try to survive.
It’s been many years now since I lost Dave. I should be able to live normally, right? I should be over my grief and moving on in my life, right? WRONG! Grief isn’t a neat little package where you go through the steps in order and are ready to face life again after a year. Although I don’t have a medical degree and am not an expert in the field, I believe my life experience has provided me with some insight into this whole process. Because of the manner in which Dave died, I have the unique perspective of living through the torture and ultimate death of my spouse from a rare and aggressive cancer called high-grade pleomorphic liposarcoma. You might notice throughout this book that I don’t give it the dignity or respect of a capital L.
Losing a loved one from cancer is very different from other types of death. The suffering you must endure before death as the caregiver is life altering. Obviously, we as caregivers don’t experience the direct physical suffering from chemo, radiation, surgery, pain, and nausea, but to stand by helplessly and watch your loved one suffer and die is a form of torture that is hard to explain to those who have not been through it. I am not claiming it is worse than losing a spouse or loved one suddenly or from a different cause. Rather, I am sharing that it is unique because of the journey leading to death, during which you start the grieving process while your loved one is right beside you. The grief process after the death of a spouse from cancer becomes a path that encompasses the loss of your spouse in addition to grieving the loss of the life you had that ended the second you heard the word “malignant.”
Grief is never quick and easy, but I do think mine was prolonged due to the sudden and unexpected loss of my mom just before the beginning of Dave’s cancer journey. This was all compounded by my daily life as a mother to six young children who lived through all the torture Dave experienced along with the deaths of their grandma and dad in such a short time.
Dave had been my best friend since I was sixteen years old, and we had been together since I was seventeen, my entire adulthood. Sixteen was also the age of our oldest child wh