I love watching jugglers. I however, have never been coordinated enough to master this talent. Tonight I am alone for a short while. I'm feeling a bit melancholy for I have been working hard at my own juggling act for just over one year now.
I can't pretend to know how anyone feels to have a devastating disease. I do struggle with depression and have for years. My role as caregiver has been a wake up call for me. I know that I am capable of doing more than I do. Its not always easy and I have no more choice at this role than my husband does bearing the role of a cancer patient / survivor.
At the time of Glen's diagnosis in July 2010 my mother had been ill for a good year before that. My sister and I were already quite familiar with what it meant to hold down a chair in a doctor's office or hospital room. Then came the time when both my mother and my husband were each ill and undergoing different treatment options. I truly am grateful to my Heavenly Father for allowing Glen to withstand his treatments as well as he did. At times I would leave his side to be with my mother.
My mother passed away on April 05, this year; in the middle of Glen's stem cell transplant. Life events such as death cannot be coordinated with any other event in one's life. It happens. As a family we were able to make arrangements for a funeral without interferring with the remainder of Glen's treatment. I personally missed being with Glen when he had the second dose of Melphalan but surprised him the following morning to be there with him when he received his stem cells. Priceless.
That one day of treatment is the only day that I have not been right next to my husband. Words aren't enough. Glen's income stopped with his diagnosis, I did not work outside our home, we managed six months of treatment with no insurance. Our church leader, Bishop Peck, told us we would be okay. A year ago he told us that. And we are.
I love my husband dearly. We have the support of our five children, our families, our church family and our community. In that I would say "life is good" as we continue on our journey and sometimes our juggling act to whatever we may meet just around the corner.
Keep Strong, Vannette
Beautifully written Vannette. I lost my father to lung cancer just 7 months before EZ was diagnosed. I too was all too familiar with holding down a chair in medical facilities. I never dreamed I would be doing it with my husband in our 50's. It is a juggling act and we too marvel at how we are "okay" in spite of EZ's job loss. The Lord has provided us with an amazing support system, just like you! Yes, life is different when you must live with multiple myeloma, but it can also be good! Continued blessings on the journey...
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