My husband of 16 yrs died from complications of cholangiocarcinoma (bile duct cancer) on 24/12/19. Being a rare cancer, he tirelessly campaigned for recognition of rare cancers. He travelled to Canberra to have Parliament recognise this cancer and managed to get a few members to wear the ribbon and had Sen. Catryna Bylic speak about it in the House.
He was diagnosed August 2016 and had a Whipple procedure, 9 hrs of surgery where part of his pancreas, intestine and bowel removed to try and avoid the spread of cancer. Soon after 15 tumours were detected in his liver. He was tested for an immunotherapy trial but didnt meet the genetic requirements so opted for chemo. He coped pretty well with chemo for about 8 months eventually trimming down to 2 tumours. Those 2 continued to grow despite other chemo options.
6 mths ago we moved to the country to enjoy the peace and tranquility he craved. During this time he spent many times being ambulanced to hospital due to high fevers, some of which couldnt be explained. I spent the last 5 mths driving to and from hospital, a 3hr round trip, to either visit him or bring him home. Once home he became increasingly dependant on me to the point where i had to help him dress and shower. Our oncologist never gave us a life expectancy and continued to look for a treatment and manage symptoms. Therefore, we both held hope and only occasionally allowed ourselves to believe this was terminal. It was one day at a time until the last appt with dr asked if he agreed to an advanced health directive, ie, do not ressucitate. I saw the light go out of his eyes. The next day was the best he had in months. Full of beans, lucid and hopeful. That afternoon he had a major stroke. One and a half days later he let go.
My problem is I cant stop thinking about how the cancer ate at him. I refused to see his decline as i kept hope. If he cried or got scared, i was the strong one. I have no regrets but cant stop mourning the man he was before cancer took hold. I never showed fear in his presence.
Now i am a mess. Everyday seems worse as the reality sinks in that no, hes not in hospital waiting for me but Im never going to see him again! I have friends nearby who distract me but when im alone im so lonely and the house is so empty.
He was my 2nd husband. My 1st was a cruel man and i suffered ptsd from his abuse for many yrs.
My 2nd husband healed me by showing me what a real man does, and replaced my bad memories with pure joy.
Im just so lost!
