Vol 73: Every night a widow dreams
The concept of time can often seem arbitrary. One day it may feel like the day is crawling forward at a snail’s pace and the next it can feel like the day flew by so quickly you barely had a second to relax. Years go by and you wonder where the time went as your baby, who was only just crawling, is now applying for a driver’s permit. In those moments, it’s natural to wish for life to slow down.
The irony is that as kids we all yearn for time to speed up. Then, as we get older, we begin to appreciate the value in waiting. But there are times when waiting can be a double-edged sword. In relationships, waiting too long to propose, for example, can cost you the person you love. In business, the risk of waiting manifests as missed opportunity. Unsurprisingly, as unfortunate as those outcomes may be, it’s in medicine where the true cost of waiting emerges.
Balancing the art of pushing forward in one aspect of your life and wanting to slow down in another is never easy. So, over time, when the thread between the binary halves becomes eroded, you start to slowly slip, make mistakes, overlook what should be obvious and malfunction. As the frequency increases, almost to a point of breakdown, you find yourself at a crossroads where you either re-evaluate priorities and commitments or continue the downhill spiral. It is then that the failure to act becomes an action itself with potentially unseen devastating consequences.
Today’s report delves into the life of a man who waited. Hereafter referred to as The Professor, like so many of us, he didn’t know what he didn’t know.
The Professor was the youngest boy of seven children and although he’d himself eventually only father one child, he loved being part of a large family. Growing up he suffered with asthma but he never let that stop him from trying to keep up with his siblings, even as episodes of his wheezing became more pronounced. Fortunately, as he grew older, The Professor’s symptoms lessened and then stopped entirely just in time for him to start playing basketball. At any given time of the day, he could be found on the basketball court with his brothers, cousins and friends or swimming in the ocean with his family. During breaks from school, he worked with his father and brothers on a glass bottom boat.
It was the late 1960’s and although the world was embroiled in the civil rights movement, rock and roll, protests and the Vietnam war, life on the island for The Professor and his family was simple. Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday evenings were set aside for Bible study and meetings he loved attending and participating in. Weekends, once school work and chores were finished, it was family fun time. Climbing mango and coconut trees, catching land crabs, and fishing with his friend Z were regular activities that he enjoyed. His big brother taught him to love music and those carefree moments of rascality and cheer never left him.
By the time The Professor was in his late teens he was excelling in school. With a keen eye and impassioned comprehension for emerging technology, he trained to become a computer engineer. He worked for a telecommunications company for two decades before starting his own. But, accolades aside, The Professor would be the first person to say that his life truly began the day he met his wife, hereafter referred to as Emily. The two were inseparable and she was the only woman he ever loved. Together they had one daughter and for many years, things were idyllic. But the transience of life and happiness is absolute.
The Professor went to get his teeth cleaned and have a cavity filled. He had no past medical or surgical history, he wasn’t on any medication, he ate fruits and vegetables regularly and was very active. So, when he was prescribed Ibuprofen for pain management during his routine dental visit, he took it reluctantly. He felt his fears were justified when not long after taking it, he began to feel nauseous. His toothache subsided but he kept vomiting even after stopping the medication.
Emily made an appointment for him to see a gastroenterologist where a stool test was performed. Results were significant for a microscopic amount of blood in his stool. The Professor’s doctor arranged for him to undergo his first colonoscopy. He was 49 at the time and planned to begin annual prostate and colorectal screenings the following year, as per previous medical recommendations. To their utter astonishment, The Professor’s results were positive for stage 3 colon cancer. As his doctor relayed the news, he listened in silence as his wife of over 30 years squeezed his hand and began to cry.
Memories of that day have become uniformly obscured by a halo of regret and disbelief. It all seemed so unreal and for years The Professor expressed regret for not getting screened earlier. His older sister is my patient and she recounts the heaviness their family felt when they heard the news. In stage 3, the cancer had already spread beyond his colon to nearby lymph nodes but had not spread to other parts of the body.
The following week, The Professor underwent surgery to excise the affected colon and lymph nodes. Initially the surgery appeared successful and everything seemed to have gone well. But days after he was released, he had to be readmitted to the hospital with non-stop vomiting. Though doctors assured them that his symptoms were secondary to the fact that his sutures had popped and not from his cancer, he continued to deteriorate becoming weaker and more lethargic over the next few days. His nausea was unyielding. Desperate and afraid, his family opted to have him airlifted to a hospital in the U.S. for another opinion.
There, The Professor’s symptoms were quickly mitigated with a course of oral antibiotics and anti-nausea medication. Once stabilized his chemotherapy began and by the second year he transferred to another center in the U.S. where he continued his treatments, travelling back and forth to The Bahamas for work. In many ways, life started to feel normal once more.
But cancer is a roller coaster of good days and bad and when The Professor’s cancer spread to his liver, he began seeking more natural therapies to strengthen his immune system. His search lead him nearly 10,000 miles away to The Philippines but his journey was ultimately fruitless. Admitted to a hospital in Georgia, The Professor lost his six-year cancer battle and died with Emily, their daughter, family and friends by his side.
Every night Emily is reunited with The Professor in her dreams and she wants readers to know that he was an incredible husband and father. He loved his parents and siblings and he reveled in spending time with his family. He enjoyed eating boiled fish and grits and his love of swimming and reading never wavered. His laugh had an undertone of mischief but his smile was as bright as the morning sun.
The family’s take home message is to get medical screens early even if you’re low risk because you can’t predict the future. The Professor was waiting until he was 50 to begin testing. Had he started even a year earlier, the outcome may have been different, a thought his family still clings to as they concomitantly treasure the memories they have. They also advocate sharing diagnoses with other family members early on so that they can take preventative measures. Emily adds that if children are involved, don’t ignore their grief or hide the truth from them. Have an age-appropriate dialogue that prepares them for the eventuality of their loved one’s death for their mental health and emotional stability.
Time can often seem arbitrary. The eyes of a dying man can regurgitate a lifetime of memories in just one second. But in the dark and lonely where every widow sleeps, time becomes nonexistent and dreams offer the only opportunity for desires to be fulfilled.
For a widow, still mourning the loss of her husband and best friend, those desires span the depth of time itself offering passive solace, a moment to breathe with ease and a chance to blissfully enjoy a happy moment with the man she still loves.
This is The KDK Report.
