Nine months ago, my wife Gaye underwent a double mastectomy (after her second breast cancer diagnosis in less than a year). The associated reconstruction failed. It has taken us this long to gather the courage to share our experience.
There’s no understating the degree of pain and suffering Gaye endured through the first four days of her double mastectomy and failed reconstruction. While the care she received on the Flap Unit improved, it was a low bar after the ICU nurses abandoned her on a med-surg floor without adequate staffing. Only the love and support of very dear people sustained us in those bleak days.
Our dear friend Shelly visited Gaye on the day after her complete revision. Still under heavy meds from what amounted to amputation, Gaye was in/out of consciousness. But Shelly came provisioned with a book and snacks. Shelly spoke with Gaye when she was awake and talkative and she read when Gaye was asleep. Most importantly, she was there for several hours so I could wash up, eat a bite, and take a nap.
Compassion in service to others is love in action
Our neighbor and friend, Dawn, visited Gaye the following day. Just as Shelly, Cheryl, and Linda had, Dawn talked with Gaye when she wanted to talk, made sure she had what she needed, and sat with her as she rested. Those wonderful people were more than company and more than a “patient-sitter.” They were lifeguards in the absolute best use of the term.
They made sure Gaye had water, ginger ale, and that she ate as much as she could of her lunch. They made sure if she needed meds or a bed adjustment, the staff were aware and followed up. But most importantly, they made sure that Gaye never woke up in a hospital room alone.
When a wound check was necessary, Dawn was there to hold Gaye’s hands, hear Gaye’s gasp and pull her attention away from the scar across her chest where her breasts had been. Dawn held Gaye as she cried and then redirected her to the business of life.
Family is not always where you expect them to be
On Sunday, Gaye’s oldest brother called to say he was on his way. He was the only one of Gaye’s siblings to visit. I worried for Gaye’s physical and emotional weakness. But the visit wasn’t about me and I had no business restricting access. I gave JP the room number. I also waited for his arrival and met him at the elevator.
Gaye was deeply hurt by the family disregard. She was also as angry, angrier even than I was and he needed to be ready to hear it, absorb it and deal with it. What he could not do was argue with her or upset her further. I made that clear as quietly and pointedly as possible.
He threatened to leave, and I pointed at the elevators behind him. There was nothing he had that she needed more than love and support. If he couldn’t be that person for her—after only seeing her once since her first cancer surgery—he could bounce. No one, least of all me, was begging him to be there. However, I strongly suspect that he was only there because someone else had guilted him into it.
I asked JP again if he could be the person Gaye needed him to be. He nodded and I stepped aside. I also waited in the hall as Gaye didn’t need my angry energy while talking to her brother.
Gaye unloaded on him about his distance. How no one in the family had been there for her during her first diagnosis and surgery—when she had been there for everybody—how none of them had been there for her this time. When he offered a half-ass defense of his behavior, she reminded him of his visit, where he had only barely sat down, only all-too ready to leave, and then hadn’t called or visited again. She reminded him of the funeral for a cousin’s husband—that everyone in the family had attended—two days before this surgery. How others had taken days off to watch bowl games. But no one had time, had even bothered to come see her.
After empty excuses, he buttoned up and listened without comment. In less than 30 minutes JP had all the reality he could stand. He left the room without a look back. I was furious. But that’s not what Gaye needed. She needed support, not anger. We received that support from so many people and that’s what I did my best reminded Gaye of in the wreckage of her brother’s wake.
Real family will make their presence known
I must note that Gaye’s younger brother T, while out of state, checked on her constantly. He called to talk to her and lift her spirits. He texted messages of support for me. Gaye had said at times that she felt like the cast-off sibling, but T made sure that she knew he loved her and she was not alone.
As I’ve noted, (but cannot acknowledge enough) we were blessed by the love and devotion of so many people who we considered friends but turned out to be so much more. Linda was the mother that Gaye so desperately needed in such harrowing circumstances. When Gaye and I both were too weak to stand, Cheryl, Shelly, and Dawn lifted us up and carried us.
Then there was the family we’ve never met face-to-face
Kari was one of the first people I friended on the platform formerly known as twitter, (many years ago). We also became close friends on Facebook. A true artist, she and Gaye connected over a mutual love of color and beauty. Kari checked on Gaye almost daily even as she struggled with her own health issues.
My scribble sister, Jennifer, had been in Gaye’s corner from the first diagnosis, sending thoughts and affection in the form of comics. Like Kari, Jennifer asked about Gaye constantly. She also regularly check in on me and offered her ear if I needed to vent. We are both pathologically introverted so that was a huge offer.
Our “foster” nephew Bryan, checked on us regularly as well, even as he was in the fight to wrap up his nursing degree and prep for state boards. Again, we never met him face-to-face, even though we live in the same city. But he and I had been Facebook family for years and he knew of Gaye from my posts and photos. His compassion and concern moved Gaye and I both to tears.
The love and support we received were instrumental in Gaye’s improvement and recovery. While a lot of what she/we experienced in the hospital was bad, the care we received from so many people was sustaining and uplifting. There is no overstating how much it meant to us both.
Takeaways:
- Bad things happen, as Iyanla Vanzant says, give it a name so you can address it
- Good things happen, too—don’t be so wrapped up in the bad that you fail to see the good
- Grace will present in the least likely appearances, that’s how love works
- People will let you down—usually because they’re fighting their own battles—let them go on their way
- Never loose sight of the goal—healing and recovery—stay positive and be that person for your loved one
Stay positive, stay strong.
The photo at the top, (l-r) Mari, Shelly, and Gaye at Shelly’s annual Halloween Carve-o-rama, (2017) belongs to the author.
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