Hall of Fame/Hall of Shame

Hello all.

Welcome welcome weekend! Is it just me or has this been the longest short week ever!?!

This post is inspired by one of the most amazing sarcoma patients I have ever “known”.

Because the unfortunate fact is that EVERYONE will somehow in some way at sometime be affected by cancer --- this article by Jennifer Goodman Lynn is a MUST read. I cannot wait for her book to be released!

So, here is my chance to make note of David and my hall of fame “I know you mean well but…” stories.

Fortunately this is something David and I talked/joked about all the time. He would classify people in two ways. Those who “get it” and those who just DON’T.

Being his voice, here is what he would list as his top “I know you mean well but…” story…

August 2009 – While at a family get-together celebrating a birthday (not his) a certain someone that shares his same D.D. initials looks at him after he had been receiving chemo for just over a month and thoughtlessly and carelessly asks him if he had just got a haircut after noticing his then bald head. God’s honest – swear on a bible truth. I was dumbfounded and appalled and therefore have no recollection of what his response was. I do however remember exactly how this made him feel as that was the discussion on the ride home that afternoon. Needless to say, the phrase, “It’s pretty obvious how little my illness and wellbeing runs through her mind” were used. And there I was for the millionth time serving as his live-in Band-Aid patching up that completely unnecessary wound.

But on a MUCH lighter note: The very best story which was shared already in his CaringBridge journal but I will share it once again here…

March 4, 2010 (8 days before his death) --- Thursday is an unusual day for us to be at Dr. Mannion’s office. Thursday is Dr. M’s day to work at the Hyde Park, Ohio office. We were only there because David needed treatment of his severe dehydration. SO – we met new people. There was a “mid-forty’s” I’d say couple, and the husband battles Non Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. He was very friendly and extremely saddened to hear of David’s 3 year struggles, and even more so – the prognosis. David was done with his fluids before this gentleman was done with his chemotherapy. As we were leaving, I went to the other side of the room to get David’s walker. You see, today was the first day David used his walker in public. He’s rocked his pimp cane, but the walker was just too much for him. Today, without a choice – he swallowed his pride. I guess the wife could read David’s humiliation all over his face. She looked up at him from her supportive seat next to her husband and said “everyone needs an iron horse to lean on now and again.” I don’t even know what her name is, but that women made my day, and I’m sure his as well. She falls into the “get it” category David talks about all the time. To that woman from today – God bless you! I bet David will never again have that same look of humiliation on his face while reaching out for his “iron horse.” I have you to thank for that! THANK YOU!

I still get tears in my eyes thinking of that precious moment. Yes my love – She “get’s it”…

As for me – here is my top “I know you mean well but…” story.

The week of March 22nd, 2010 (my first week back to work after David’s death) --- An old colleague paid me a visit to check on me. We talked briefly about Dave’s life, his hard-fought battle, and the tragedy of his death. What came next will be something I will never forget. He looked at me and said, “Aim, don’t shut yourself off from another love. You are young and you need to get back out there.” Although what he said was factual (as I now see) his timing could not be more inappropriate. I literally wanted to poke his eyes out at that moment!!!

As for my best moment… (Grab a tissue)

Tuesday evening March 9th, 2010 (the calm before the storm day) --- My Dad pulls up at the front entrance of the hospital after taking care of my dogs and rooting thru my underwear drawer (which we all know he HATED doing) while packing me a bag. By this time it was evident my stay at the hospital was unfortunately going to last the duration of David’s life. I then go out to meet him as David had a very busy day full of visitors, stories and laughter. He was exhausted and sleeping soundly so Dad didn’t come up. Dad got out of his truck acting noticeably different. He was full of supportive looks and gestures but my dad being his quiet self couldn’t find the words to say what was on his mind. All he could manage to say was, “do you know the Sugarland song called “Fall into me”? I didn’t. He then said that he wanted me to listen to it and remember I don’t have to do this all alone. He was there.

There are very few things in this world that I enjoy more than music, so that day there wasn’t anything better Daddy Timbo could say.

So for all my friends and family --- You are not alone in your struggles either, fall into me…

Have a great weekend all,

With love,

Amy