Chapter 10 (part 3)

On October 8th we came home after two rounds of chemo and a BMT thinking about how the worst was behind us.  For about a month that seemed to be the case. Her counts were good. A biopsy showed no leukemia. All that was left was to rest and recover and take her life back.  

By November things had started to get complicated. Her bilirubin was going up, which is a sign that her body and in particular her liver was having trouble with her new immune system.  We would go to the outpatient clinic almost every day in November. She had scans and tests to make sure it wasn't something else, but her levels kept creeping up. Her skin and her eyes were slowly turning yellow. On November 29, just a couple days after Thanksgiving they wanted to put her back in the hospital.  As they told us, its just easier to treat her inpatient than outpatient.

Over the course of the next week, she seemed fine. She was a little bummed but she was OK. Her levels were going in the wrong direction though. I started to sleep with the phone on my chest in case the hospital called at night. One morning, the phone rang at 6 AM. It is not usually good to have the phone ring so early. She was in bad shape, something happened overnight and the hospital wanted me to be prepared when I cam in to see her.

It turned out that one of the medications she was on was causing swelling on her brain. She would spend the next few days medically sedated to prevent her from hurting herself. 

It is December 10. Her liver continues to not respond to treatment and now her kidneys are starting to fail. That morning as I arrive at the hospital, the entire team approaches me and I knew I was in trouble. We go down the hallway to talk and they tell me that she isn't going to make it. I won't try to use a word describe what that felt like. I quickly made plans to get the kids up to the hospital to talk to her. I sat there with my children as they told their mother they loved her and she returned the love. Again... I can't explain that feeling. It hurts so much to think about.

I sent the kids home and prepared to stay with her. But, she would not back down. She looked me in the eye as I told her they don't think she will make it. We cried together as I again profusely apologized for failing her. As time passed and the emotion of the moment dulled, she just kept persisting. Hours would pass, she was still there.  Before we knew it, it was morning. As I sit here typing this today, I swear to you, the staff was shocked to find her still alive that next morning. 

She kept getting better. Her kidneys took a turn for the better. The hospital staff thought she was stable enough to get her home for Christmas. So we tried to get her home. I won't post the picture here of the day that we left because she is so sick, but its on Facebook if you want to find it. You can see from the look on my face that I am not thrilled. The truth is that I am terrified. Just a week before they were telling me she would not survive the night and now I was supposed to take her home and care for her, by myself without the facilities of a hospital. They gave us a wheelchair and a list of prescriptions so long they sent me home with a binder. 

We had an OK night at home, and by OK I mean we made it through the first night. The second night, however, did not go very well. Cyndi was not able to go from sitting to standing on her own.  As I tried to move her from sitting to put her in bed she passed out. I felt her body go limp in my arms. I have never been so scared in my life. I called 911. I called her Oncologist. She came to fairly quickly but it was evident that we needed to go back to the hospital. The EMTs picked her up and put her in my van. It would be the last time we would be together in the house that we worked so hard to have. The kids came down to tell her the loved her as I tried to reassure them that everything was OK.

The funny thing about that night is that when we got to the ER, they tried to send us home. We had to beg the hospital to keep her.

But like everything before... she managed to recover. She got a little bit better and a few days later we were once again talking about trying to get her back home.  But fate just was not on our side.

A few days later another crisis would rise. As I slept at home, the hospital called in the middle of the night to tell me they were having trouble keeping her blood pressure up. I called my Mom and asked her to come to the house but I just got up and ran out the door. I arrived to find a team of physicians and nurses in her room trying (again) desperately to save her.  For the third time in a few days I had to discuss how much we were willing to intervene. I was not ready, so I made sure we intervened. This event was the worst yet. She would manage to get better enough to have a few more days with me, and to be able to say "I love you" to our kids one more time, but she just never recovered from this event. Trying to save her took such a toll on her body, she was just unable to heal.

I was sure she was going to get better. The morning she passed, I walked in that hospital ready to here the staff tell me that the worst was behind us, and its clear sailing from now on. But that just was not the case. 

One of the things I have heard a lot of people say over the last few days and weeks is that Cyndi lost her battle with cancer. If you take anything from this last chapter, please take that she did not lose to anything. We lost. We lost her. My kids lost their mother, I lost by best friend, and many of you lost a dear fried. But she did not lose anything. 

I said goodbye to her on the evening of Jan 10. I spent the last few hours with her telling her many of these same stories that I recounted as part of this effort. I hoped it brought her soul a little peace as I hope it brings you a little peace to know how much we loved her. As I promised her on that day, and as I continue to say to her everyday, I will do everything in my power to make sure she has a legacy. I will raise young men that would have made her proud. I will make sure there are a dozen grandbabies and that first girl has (at a minimum) Cyndi for a middle name. I will live a life that will make you proud.

I Love You. I Miss You. 

- Eric