What Cancer is Really Like

I posted this lovely final family photo (Derek is sleeping/drugged, not the other thing) on instagram and Facebook this past week on World Cancer Day to bring about some awareness of what it really looks like. Derek did a great job at hiding his suffering, so much so that his own family were not aware how bad it was until it was the end. I wanted people to see that cancer is more than a disease--that it effected more than just Derek's health. It upended our life, it changed our family, and it was the center of our everything. Nothing could be done or planned without taking it into consideration. In fact, cancer had been apart of our family before Camden was.

I also wanted people to see the faces of families they are helping when they donate to the Susan Mortensen Turley Foundation. 100% of all proceeds go to families, since the foundation has no overhead.

People commented that this was a beautifully sad photo. It was one that encompassed both the sadness at Derek's final moments but the love that we shared with each other. I agree. Still sucks though.

Derek's Name

A few months ago, I took Camden to the ER because of his persistent stomach flu. It was the middle of the night and I was growing worried that he would get dehydrated. When the insurance lady came into his room and was reviewing his information, she asked about Derek since his information was before mine in Camden's file. I told her he had passed away a couple months before. She didn't say anything and put a large, extravagant X through Derek's information and moved on. In an instant she didn't just cross out his name and number, she seemed to cross out his life in Camden's file and made it seem like it had no meaning any longer.

In these situations, I don't expect everyone who finds out that my husband has died to give me their sympathy. I just wish they would consider that the name "Derek Beach" has meaning. It means a fantastic father, a wonderful husband, and a good man. They don't get to see his beautiful smile when they hear his name like I do nor do they get to feel my grief when I have to say he has passed away. It seems to be the plight of the person facing loss--that the name of the one we love and have lost isn't as sacred to everyone else as it is to us.

Happy Anniversary To Us

"You're awake" she said, "Drink this, you will need all the energy you can get today".

I thanked her and sipped my orange juice. She looked at me intensely and then crouched next to the uncomfortable chair I had just slept in and said:

"I see people come and go from this ICU a lot. I've watched you two. You are the reason people get married, in the hopes that someone will love them no matter what. It is obvious you love each other a lot. You are lucky to have that, you are lucky to have each other".

I don't claim that Derek and I had/have a perfect marriage. What I do claim is that love was always in abundance. Through awful bad news, financial troubles, infertility, depression, and cancer, we could always turn to one another for support, friendship, and love.

Unable to speak, Derek wrote me this note.

I think of this day five years ago as we promised to be together forever. Even though we didn’t know it was cancer, we knew something was wrong and time was of the essence. So instead of crying tears of joy on our wedding day, I felt relief that I had made him mine forever. 

When he came home with hospice that day, I pulled our couch next to his bed and we held hands all night. It seemed an appropriate and necessary gesture that would have to hold us over until we could be together again. It is comforting to know that the love he gave me in 5 years is enough to last me a lifetime. 

I miss my partner in all things, the father of my child, and my best friend in the world. So on this day, the day we planned to be walking the beaches of Maui celebrating him being cancer free and our anniversary, I will honor our love in the best way I know how: by hugging our child extra tight and being grateful that our family is forever.