Journey Through a Dark Valley

Some time ago, I don’t know when, I started a journey through a dark valley. I started to become aware that something wasn’t quite right back in late January. No more hunger or thirst and funny feeling down my stomach.

My wife and I had planned a driving trip along the Atlantic coast and took off early in February. It was a good trip but the symptoms persisted. I made an appointment with the doctor as soon as we got back and the process started. It turned out to be stage IV Esophageal cancer and we became aware that the journey had started. I’d like to journal some of this travel and share feelings, thoughts and experiences.

As with most, I Googled the dark combination of words and read some of the results. The statistics are abysmal. My wife and I new that in one major way nothing had changed—we are only given a day at a time to experience life. As cliché as it sounds, no one is promised tomorrow. I can say that I was at peace with this situation from the beginning and handed the details and outcomes over to God.

Most days are different than before in the sense of spending more time in medical facilities and battling things that were not issues before like fatigue and fever and loss of energy—so far, no pain.

Shortly after starting radiation, I couldn’t swallow effectively and required a feeding tube. And medically that’s where I am right now.

I’ve had a range of experiences with other people, both relatives and chance encounters in the hospital. I realized many were experiencing a profound fear of loss because some loved one was going through a similar experience. I shared with each and sometimes cried with them trying to assure them that they must concentrate on what they have and not the fear of what may be. With each encounter I had a growing respect of the “…lives of quiet desperation…”

My first deep sobbing experience came when it dawned on my that my wife might be left alone. I can’t tell you how deeply that hurt. God brought us together over forty years ago and she has been everything anyone could want of a mate. I had glibly assumed that we would care for one another all the days of our lives. Now I could see that may not be the outcome and I grieved deeply.

We also have five wonderful boys, all Christian and good fathers and husbands. I could hear and see the pain they were suffering and, again, I grieved. We have been entirely open with this so all of the children explained to all of the grandchildren. The oldest, a precious young teenager had her mom bring her to see us. The crying started as soon as the door opened and we cried through to some peace.

You know, right now, peace is a key word. I’ve derived some satisfaction from having each of my boy’s express that they’ve now achieved peace.

This travel will be disjointed and if your interested, stop back now a then for other experiences and updates.