Through the Eyes of the Spouse - The First Two Oncologists

So your spouse has been diagnosed with cancer. What happens next? We woke up the next morning in the hospital and were told an oncologist would be making their rounds to come and talk with us about the next steps. The oncologist meeting was a lot like “Meet the teacher” day in school. We were assigned an oncologist like students are assigned a teacher. On meet the teacher day, students are given cute colorful sheets that talk about the teacher’s background in education, the amount of years taught, etc. When we met the oncologist we were assigned to, we were told her name and which cancer clinic she worked for during that time. That’s it. No cute paper with background information or anything that told more about why my husband’s life should be in her hands. Maybe oncologists should take notes from teachers and give cute welcome gifts and a little more information at the “Meet the oncologist day”… The oncologist said we would meet in the office within the next week to begin discussing plans for treatment. My mind was racing. Who is this person? Has she ever treated colon cancer patients? What is her area of concentration? If she has treated colon cancer patients, did they have signet ring cell cancer? Has she ever treated a patient as young as Robert? My husband’s literal life is in the hands of this person that I know nothing about, and it was not okay. After the doctor left, I voiced my concerns to Robert. He said, “I have cancer your job is to make the decisions.” No pressure, right?!? 

We spent the rest of the afternoon and into the early part of the evening at the hospital. Robert looked at me and said, “I want to go home.” I said okay and went to figure out how to get him discharged. Let’s be honest, he could have asked for just about anything and I would have done my best to make it happen. Cheeseburger? No problem! New car, I’ll make it happen! It’s funny the lengths you will go to when you can’t fix the underlying issue. However, the only thing Robert requested was to go home. He was discharged late that evening, and we went home to sort out our new life. 

One would think that a cancer diagnosis would be enough for a family to deal with and nothing else would go wrong. However, that wasn’t the case for us. As we walked into our house, we tripped over the floor. Not because we were clumsy but because our original 1930s hardwood floors had buckled in multiple places. When it rains, it pours! The next day I stayed home from work to make phone calls regarding oncologist, making appointments, and finding the best treatment plan for moving forward. Robert spent the day on the phone with the insurance company trying to get our floors repaired. Where do you even start when trying to find the best oncologist? I had no idea there were different oncologist for each part of treatment. A general oncologist for the plan, radiation oncologist for radiation treatments, and surgical oncologists for the surgery portion. Then, if you choose to go to an out of state medical facility, a local oncologist is still needed. The closest Robert and I  had been to cancer were our grandparents and even then, we did not have anything to do with the process behind the scenes. So where were we supposed to start?  I called a few people I knew whose spouses were in remission from cancer and who worked closely in the medical field with oncologists. I spent the day researching and calling around to see who would accept Robert as a new paitient. I am thankful for the people God placed in our lives to help us navigate this time. We found an oncologist that came highly recommended and were able to get an appointment within a few days. Robert’s phone call with the insurance company for the floors didn’t go as well. We were told the insurance would not cover the repairs or replacement of the flooring. As if hospital bills and upcoming cancer treatments were not enough of an expense, we could now add replacing flooring to the list. After our day of research and phone calls, we both returned to work until the upcoming oncologist appointment. 

A few days passed, and we went to the first of many oncologist appointments. This “meet the oncologist” appointment went much better than the first. So many things were covered in this meeting: side effects of the treatments, what to expect moving forward, vague statistics of this type of cancer, and so much more. One thing that was discussed is something Robert and I did not share with anyone other than ourselves. It was a private matter and quite frankly no one else’s business. However, I recently had a friend share a similar story which sparked my thinking back on this situation. When a person over the age of 50 is diagnosed with cancer, very rarely are they thinking about kids. When you are 25 and 28, kids are very much still a thought and plan in your life. We had been married four years and kids were definitely a hope and dream for us. During this oncologist meeting, we were told that the cancer and treatments were going to target areas close to Robert’s reproductive system. This meant if we wanted to have kids of our own, we had 24 hours to contact a sperm bank prior to his first treatment. A little bit of background knowledge: Robert was the last male in his family to carry the Clifton name. Which meant if we did not have kids of our own, the Clifton name would die with Robert. Knowing all of this information with the other overwhelming information from the oncologist meeting, we went home to decide what to do. Robert and I kept this decision and information to ourselves. We prayed and cried together even more that evening. We prayed and I did not have a peace about a sperm bank. I am not here to discuss or debate anyone else’s decisions. This was ours. We prayed and I told Robert, “I do not have a peace  about it.” I said, “If God is big enough to heal you, He is big enough to give us kids. No matter how that happens.” Why share this information? I’ve kept it quiet until now, why allow people into our lives and decision? A few reasons. One reason, I have been asked a lot why we did not have kids. This question has been asked even more now that he has passed than before he died. For the record, it shouldn’t be asked of anyone. You never know the story or the hurt behind a seemingly harmless question. The second reason, the diagnosis of cancer is so much more than an illness. It takes away dreams of a life together, kids, and so much more. I hope this gives a little insight for those who have been blessed not to experience cancer first hand. The last reason is because we were not the only people who were/have been faced with the decision to freeze or not to freeze. We are not the only ones who had to deal with the thought of never having kids of their own. To the one reading this who has experienced this, I am so sorry you have ever had to know this pain and loss, but know you are loved. Also, know you are not less of a person because you did not have kids of your own. You are incredible, worthy of love, and not alone. 

With so much weighing on our hearts and minds, we also received a phone call while at the appointment saying someone from our church had found out about our flooring. There were volunteers coming to take care of replacing our floor. Also, a company heard about our story and donated the flooring. Talk about awestruck and speechless. We left the appointment, packed our bags and went to stay with our close friends who graciously opened up their home to us. 

 48 hours later, Robert began his first chemo treatment. The infusions began at 8:00 in the morning with his nausea medicines and ended around 3:00PM with his chemo infusion. He came home with a chemo pump for the next few days of continuous chemo. We were sent home with a toxic bag incase the chemo spilled. Talk about terrifying! We were treated so well by the nurses and staff that day. I graded papers as we sat through his infusions. One awesome gift Robert received was from a church donation. This bag had a blanket, a small pillow, mints, notes, germx, a chemo hat, and words of encouragement. This seemingly “small gift” was a huge encouragement to us when everything else seemed to be going wrong. The first chemo treatment wasn’t horrible. The side effects were nausea and neuropathy (cold sensitivity). As the treatments progressed, the side effects became more persistent and prominent. Robert would have one week on of treatment and one week off. During his “off weeks” life went on as normal. It was like he wasn’t sick. On his “on weeks,” we would talk on Monday morning before I went to work. His mom would take him to his treatment and Robert would come home with his pump. Other than grunts and noises when I would ask how he was feeling, he would not talk again until the following Monday morning. He would wake up and it was like flipping a switch. He would be his normal cheerful self again. This became our “new normal.” This oncogist appointment was the first of many to come. Stay tuned for more stories from behind the scenes. 

P.S. Our floors were finished and we were able to move back home within a few days. To the people who helped replace our flooring, put everything back in place, and donated the flooring, thank you for ministering to us in our time of need. It means more than you will ever know. To the church who donated the bags to the treatment center, thank you for loving and ministering to the community around you.