If I had only one friend left, I'd want it to be you..

I have not blogged in such a long time. Sometimes the pain of your words are to much, and you just can't do it. Other times writing them down helps release some of the pain. I have enjoyed sharing our story, and am grateful I can refer back to see what I felt at the time, or be reminded of something we did, or went through. I wish I hadn't missed so much...

   In September Rich and I had a bad experience at Huntsman. He hadn't been eating much, because nothing sounded good, and he just didn't feel well. We went to his regular appointment and the doctor thought he would benefit from a feeding tube. He wanted him to get some nutrition and be able to go back on chemo. ((because he at this point was too sick and weak for chemo, so our goal was to get him stronger, and ready to go back on it.)) Once we got all checked in for the slumber party at Huntsman they treated us as though my husband had minutes left to live. It felt strange. Cold. Untrue. We shrugged it off. The following day we were advised on reasons why a feeding tube was a bad idea, but they wanted him to stay in the hospital to help with pain management and hydration. So we did. The next day, his hospital doctor talked with us, and told Rich that he did not have years to live (like Rich believed that he did) and he informed us both that Rich had weeks, maybe months left to live. He had ZERO tact, and Rich was shocked, and mad. His mom was with us for this conversation, so afterwards we all three talked through some things. It was a hard reality, yet at the same time we STILL had so much HOPE and FAITH knowing that the doctor's are not in charge and that he could still live a very long life.



So we went on vacation!

 

 

We had been planning on a vacation, a camping trip, some sort of get away and we had to cancel every time because of his health, so the next day I called a friend that had offered her cabin in Bear Lake. She said YES, and so did Rich. WE WENT TO BEAR LAKE! It was a nice, and simple get away. It felt so good to be away with him, and even better than that, he went from being in bed almost all day long, to walking and enjoying Bear Lake. It was awesome! We enjoyed the view on the deck, playing cards, good food, beach walking, raspberry shake eating, etc. We sure missed Keaton, but he didn't really want to come. His age! I know had I shared with him what the doctor said to us, he would have been there. I was sooo tempted to do that, because his dad wanted him there more than words. But I didn't want to take his hope away. We had to hold on to it, we had to keep fear away. His mom came with us. Rich loved it so much that once we got home he kept talking about it, and how bad he wanted to buy a cabin there for us and his entire family. He wanted that so badly, I think mostly because he hadn't felt that good in such a long time. I love that we went.

 Once we got home it was back to business. We went over a few more options (even though the previous Dr told us we were OUT of options) and chose the one he was going to go on. Chemo. But only one chemo treatment was given. He got pretty sick. He started feeling like crapola, and started throwing up, black. It was pretty scary. We called Huntsman and they wanted us to head in to our local ER to make sure he wasn't bleeding internally. So, we took a nap, ((sleep deprived)) and then headed in. He was so weak that we had to call an ambulance. They just helped him into our car and I drove him. It was more serious than we had thought. They wanted to transfer him to Huntsman but his potassium was dangerously high, so he had a slumber at Ogden Regional. Somehow, because of this, the concern over the black throw up was on a back burner. We didn't realize how serious it was, honestly. In fact I came home to be with Averi and his mama stayed with him. Had I realized... I would have stayed. . The following day we were off to Huntsman. They were excellent to him. We had talked about his kidneys, and how they were not functioning the way they should be, and dialysis was an option. Later that day he was moved up to the 5th floor, ICU. This was all new, but they said it was so he could be watched more carefully and be there if he needed dialysis. His throat was very sore, so they thought maybe he tore it while throwing up, thus the reason for it being black. I didn't agree because his first puke was black. But they didn't seem to concerned about that anymore, they just treated symptoms and were trying desperately to get his kidneys working better. Despite everything they did, his kidneys were only getting worse, and were functioning at about 20%. His regular doctor came up to see him on the 4th day, and gave us AWFUL news. She told us that there was nothing they could do for him, anymore. We just sat there... She (Cindy) had a very long conversation with us, about everything. She told us that if he went on dialysis he could not be treated for cancer, it was a catch 22, basically. She got a little teary, she told him she loved him, and she asked him to switch his hope a little. Hope that he could have some hard conversations with those he loved, etc. She also told him that he fought harder than anyone she had met. She praised him for everything he had done. We both just sat there, listened, and cried.  Once she left, we cried a little more, and yet still we had hope that she could be wrong. Even though we trusted her words and that if there was anything anyone could do, she would have told us. But hope. We had it. It had us. We were torn. He went on Hospice a few days later, as they had set it up. I remember when he met his new hospice nurse he asked her how long they thought he had. ((we never asked, and didn't believe in google)) She said that you have to have a condition that can potentially take you in six months or less to be on Hospice. Later, I would hear him on the phone sharing this news, and he would say, "So they think I have six months." I never heard OR LESS! He was so optimistic.   After being on Hospice just under a week, we decided it wasn't for us. It was taking away our hope, his hope. He wanted to get a second opinion. He called a good friend, Becky and had her over on a Wednesday. They had a good chat, and she helped him find his hope again. She helped him get an appointment with her doctor for the following Monday. Meanwhile he had had blessings, and we were both going to get our patriarchal blessings on that Sunday.

Wednesday and Thursday he was full of energy, and pretty much adorable. He had the days packed with visitors, and I was exhausted. He had a BURST of energy.. we weren't sleeping either. Friday he woke up feeling sickish, obvious is was going to be a harder day, but he had had so many before. He missed his doctor appointment, it was just to fill up his pain pump, so I didn't worry. Later on in the day he was upset he had missed it and found someone that could take him in to get it filled. I didn't feel good about it, because he wasn't feeling good at all. I helped him get dressed, and got him into Melissa's car. ((grateful she is nurse)) I kissed him goodbye, and I told him I loved him. When she brought him back, he was different. He had gotten sick in her car, and was noticeably sicker. He went to sleep and on Saturday is was a repeat. He didn't feel good. By that night, as we were laying in bed, and he couldn't talk much, and his symptoms were so different than all the other times, I broke our promise. The first day of his diagnosis we decided to never google anything. Well, I googled kidney failure. After reading all the symptoms, and realizing he was experiencing all of them, I just held his hand, and cried all night long. We experienced things that night that I will never share, but always remember. It was hard.  I knew it was time for me to say goodbye to my very best friend. I knew that his suffering was near end, and that he was going to find the peace he deserved. He always said this was temporary... After the sun rose, I called his mom and told her to come over. She did. We had the bishop come over and give him a blessing. I had the difficult conversation with my kids... I don't think I have every cried so much and so hard in one day, up to that point. I didn't know if the process would take days, weeks, etc. But that day, that Sunday, October 27th, at 6:40 pm my husband left his body and won his battle of pancreatic cancer. My children and I watched him take his last breath.

I will update more, but not tonight. It has been 6 weeks, and 2 days...