Not your ordinary "Date Night"

I have SO many things to get through.

Guest posts.  Life.  Stories.  Good things.  Hard things.

I'm trying to keep them all in order in my mind and

time has been my enemy lately.  

There is NEVER enough of it.

Work, school, homework, study, family time (barely).

On repeat day after day.

------------------------------------------

This week Kyle and I had a fun "Date Night".

As in: "not really fun and this is sarcastic" kind of
fun "date night".

We were told when he was first diagnosed that 
we should "get our things in order and then live life."

And for the most part we did.  And we have.

Wills were drawn, finances were put in order, 
funeral plans were talked about.

But time has a funny way of getting away from you.

And all the things that are supposed to be "in order"
are not always in order.

One day last summer we walked through a cemetery 
and looked at plots and priced burials/funerals.

(HOLY SMOKES dying is expensive...that's all 
I have to say about that...except that so is 
cancer and so our finances
were EXHAUSTED last year and so was time and
energy and all thoughts of graveyard-y kind
of things...)

...and there was no money left to buy plots or
spaces or funeral-y kind of things.

And so it was pushed aside.

That day last summer made my heart literally ached.
It was all I could do to just verbalize any of 
this out loud and walk around a cemetery with
my husband.

Fast forward to now.

New scan results sort of propelled Kyle and I into
action once again with finishing up "funeral plans".

So this past Tuesday night, while my neighborhood
celebrated a local homegrown author and her newest
book release, we instead headed to a meeting with a 
mortician (or whatever they're called) to get a 
new price list (things went UP this year, of course)
and talk about what happens when the end of this
all comes to fruition.

At some point in the future.
Hopefully farther away than closer--
but it WILL come someday. 

The "when" is unclear.

Let me just say that it was NOT a great night.

It is a pretty brutal thing to talk about a
funeral, Kyle's funeral,
with him sitting there, helping to plan it.

But it had to be done.

We got price sheets.

And fact sheets.

And cost sheets.

And marker prices and plot prices and listened
and talked and planned.  

I kept biting my lip trying to hold back tears
and I tried not to talk very much afraid the tremor
in my voice would give way to a flood of emotion.

Once again, my heart ached inside my chest.

That night laying (lying?) in bed I said
to Kyle what I say many nights to him.

"I don't want you to die."

He replied how he always does, "I'm not dead yet."

I said, "No really...I don't want you die."

To which he replied, "I don't want to die either."

And that, my friends, was the ending to our
not so very fabulous and not so very ordinary
"Date Night".

And yup, that's what I've got for today.

Anticipatory Grief

GOOD HEAVENS!  

I knew it had to have a name.

A clinical name.  There had to be a name for 
what we as caregivers go through when our spouses
are diagnosed with a terminal illness.

Today I found the name and clinical definition.

I am not crazy!  

It is a real thing!

It is called Anticipatory Grief.

It is outlined as follows for caregivers of
terminal cancer peeps. 
(or other life threatening diseases).

I have copied and pasted two GREAT articles
for your reading pleasure.

I use the term "reading pleasure" loosely of course.

This ain't no "Lord of the Rings" or "Twilight" series.

As a caregiver, I was told by both doctors and
social workers alike that we "get to" grieve 
twice (lucky us!) with a terminal diagnosis.

But they never used the words: Anticipatory Grief.

And it makes so much sense.

We are anticipating what will be.

This is pretty much my FAVORITE line from
both articles-so if you get NOTHING else from
what you read, get this:

It is important to not mistake anticipatory grief as a lack of faith or a negative attitude. Instead, it should be viewed as a natural human reaction. Anticipatory grief allows individuals time to absorb the reality of loss and address unfinished business such as saying “I love you,” or “I forgive you.”

I'm pretty certain anyone who has EVER gone 
through this would agree that this is what
us caregivers feel.  

It's kind of some heavy (and long reading) but
a great insight to how terminal patients and
caregivers feel in real life.

And it's written by the "experts" not me.

There is just some GREAT practical advice and
common sense in these articles.

----------------------------

Anticipatory Grief: Mourning for Your Loved One with a Terminal Diagnosis

August 21st, 2013 By Maggie K. Hughes

The cancer journey can be an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved. Patients and caregivers are forced to deal with a variety of emotions beginning with the diagnosis, continuing through treatment and finally to remission or death. If death is in the foreseeable future, loved ones can experience anticipatory grief.

What is anticipatory grief?

Anticipatory grief is a form of mourning that occurs in anticipation of death. Anticipatory grief is often experienced once patients or their loved ones acknowledge the terminal nature of an illness. This form of grief is most frequently experienced by a caregiver but can also affect the dying individual.

It is important to not mistake anticipatory grief as a lack of faith or a negative attitude. Instead, it should be viewed as a natural human reaction. Anticipatory grief allows individuals time to absorb the reality of loss and address unfinished business such as saying “I love you,” or “I forgive you.”

Anticipatory grief affects the emotional, physical and spiritual being, but does not decrease the amount of grief felt after a death. It is important to remember that all individuals and families experience illness, grief and death in their own unique way.

Symptoms of Anticipatory Grief

According to The National Cancer Institute, the following aspects of anticipatory grief have been identified amongst survivors:

• Depression
• Heightened concern for the dying person
• Rehearsal of the death
• Attempts to adjust to the consequences of the death

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When a Loved One is Terminally Ill Talking About Death and Making End-of-Life Decisions

When your loved one has a terminal illness

Key Points

• When a loved one develops a serious illness, it’s normal to go through an emotional experience akin to grieving.
• If the illness is life-threatening, it’s important to talk about death and plan for the end of life.
• These conversations can be difficult, but there are ways to make them easier.

Time seems to freeze when you learn that someone you love has a life-threatening illness. Maybe you instinctively pushed the news away. Or perhaps you cried, or swung into action. No matter what happened that day, time and life go on after the diagnosis is made—regardless of whether you feel ready to cope.

You and your loved one may have pursued promising treatments and perhaps enjoyed a respite from encroaching illness. At some point, however, the illness may become terminal, and gradually the end draws closer. Once further treatments are unlikely to be successful, there is a great deal you can do to muster support for both of you.

Some of the support you need is emotional. The fears and feelings that surface now are better aired than ignored. Some of the support you need concerns practical details. End-of-life care needs to be arranged and funeral plans need to be considered. Legal and financial matters must be addressed now or in the days after the death. This article can help guide you through some of these steps and suggest additional sources of support for you to draw on.

Dealing with anticipatory grief

Often, people feel anticipatory grief when they know someone they care about is seriously ill. Anticipatory grief means grappling with and grieving a loss before it completely unfolds.

When someone has a serious illness, there are many losses to grieve long before the person becomes terminally ill—for the person who is dying as well as for family and friends. Blows to independence and security, impaired abilities, and truncated visions of the future are just a few examples of devastating losses.

Just as with grief after a death, family and friends may feel a multitude of different emotions as they adjust to the new landscape of their lives. Typical emotions at this time include:

sorrow anxiety anger

acceptance depression denial

Depending on the type of illness and the relationship you share, you may feel closer and determined to make the time you have left count. Perhaps you are terribly anxious about what’s to come or so firmly focused on last-resort treatments that you continue to push away any thoughts of the end. Possibly you long for release or feel guilty and conflicted.

Although not everyone experiences anticipatory grief, all of these feelings are normal for those who do. You may find the following steps comforting:

• Talk with sympathetic friends or family members, especially those who have weathered similar situations.
• Join a support group online or in person.
• Read books or listen to tapes designed for caregivers.

Making Time to Say Goodbye

Although painful in so many ways, a terminal illness offers you time to say “I love you,” to share your appreciation, and to make amends when necessary. When death occurs unexpectedly, people often regret not having had a chance to do these things.

Ira Byock, author of Dying Well and a longtime hospice advocate, suggests that dying people and their families exchange these words with each other:

I love you I forgive you Forgive me

Thank you Goodbye.

Sometimes, dying people hold on to life because they sense that others aren’t ready to let them go. Tell your loved one it’s all right to let go when he or she is ready to do so. The assurance that you will be able to carry on—perhaps to help children grow or to fulfill another shared dream—may offer enormous relief.

Approaching this difficult conversation

Clearly, not everyone who is terminally ill is ready to talk about death. So how will you know when to talk and what to say? Below are some words that may help you. Your task in this difficult time is merely to open the door to this conversation and promise to stay for it if the person you care for wishes to talk.

Look for openings. A sermon or song you heard, a book you read, or the way someone else’s illness and death unfolded can be an opportunity for remarks that open the door. By commenting, you signal that you’re ready to talk and needn’t be protected.

Broach the topic gently. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, psychiatrist and author of the book On Death and Dying, describes conversations that start with the simplest question: “How sick are you?”

While you may be too close to reasonably make that inquiry, there are other questions you can ask:

• What do you worry about?
• How can I help?
• Is there anything you want to talk about?

Try not to rebuff tentatively expressed fears with hearty assurances, such as:

• That’s a long way off.
• Of course you’re not a burden.

It might help instead to ask specific questions. Depending on your loved one’s comfort level and receptiveness to the topics, questions you could ask include:

• What are you thinking about?
• What would be a good death?

Sharing your own thoughts on the nature of a good death may help.

Seek spiritual counsel. Talk with your religious leader or counselor. Priests, rabbis, and other religious leaders can offer real comfort to believers. Even people who do not regularly attend religious services may turn toward their faith as an illness progresses.

Ask advice about hospice. Hospice workers and hospital social workers can also help you and the person who is ill grapple with the issues surrounding death. Even if you have chosen not to use a full range of hospice services, some resources are often available.

Ask a doctor to help. A doctor’s reassurance about how physical symptoms might unfold and how pain will be handled can be invaluable. Some doctors can ask gently about fears, as well. Realize, though, that it’s not unusual for doctors (and nurses) to shy away from talking about death. Some feel determined to try everything and view death as a failure. Being human, they have their own fears and discomfort to deal with, too.

Let it go. Kübler-Ross noted that people slip into and out of denial during the course of illness and even during a single conversation. Sometimes it’s too hard to think or talk about death. Let your loved one end conversations that feel too difficult. Allow him or her to hold on to comforting thoughts and fantasies.

Voices of Cholangiocarcinoma, Voice #3. Anonymous

A few people have asked that their stories remain
anonymous in the telling.

I completely respect that wish.  They are opening
up their hearts and souls and sometimes in so doing
they still need to protect who they are.  Sometimes
the pain is still too fresh and too raw and it is
easier to be "unknown."

And so this voice has made the choice to share
with the world as "Anonymous".

Here is their story.

It is another story of loosing a brother (I wish
there weren't so many, but there seem to be more
sisters and spouses who wrote to me).  

All of the stories are edited to fit in my blog only.
I have not corrected typo's or spelling or 
anything to change the integrity of the story
being told.  They belong to the teller, not me.

------------------------------------------------

I use to believe in God and then my brother got
cancer and everyone kept telling me God doesn't give
us a cross we can't bear or that this is all part of Gods
bigger plan. I hear that cancer patients and families are told 
this a lot. And then people told me that this was
Gods will.  Gods will?  It was his will that
my brother got cancer and died?  I used to believe
in God and the God I use to believe in would not do that. 
Maybe I will find God in my heart again someday, but he's not
there now. What kind of God would do that?  I'm not
mad at him I just don't believe in him anymore.

I thought I had time. And then my brother got this
cancer.  I kept putting off spending time with him.
I thought there would be more of it. And then
one day there was none left and I let everything else
get in my way.  I didn't make time for him.  And now
I have regret.  Regret is a really hard thing to live with.
If I could share anything with anyone who reads this
it is to make time and not put it off cuz even if your
one of the lucky ones who has more time with this 
cancer it will never be enough time.  This cancer 
doesn't care.

I watched my brother die from this cancer and I never
thought I would loose him.  I don't know how to write
all the things I see and feel like you do Dorien but I 
feel all of those things you feel.  I took too much
for granted and now I'm sorry.  I didn't say the things
that needed to be said.

I'm not angry, I'm just sad all the time.  I miss him
so much. I think that's all I have to say about it, its
not very good.  But I wanted to say something.  
Maybe someone can learn from me.   He lived
for 11 months after he was diagnosed.  I loved him.
I'm sorry this is all bunched up together and doesn't 
make sense.  Thank you for telling my bit.  It sounds
pretty sad and depressing but that is how I feel. 
This is the first time I've ever tried to tell any of 
it out loud in writing.  Please share this without my name.

---------------------------------------------------------

Reality Check

We have had quite the week.

Full of ups and downs (whats new with cancer, really?)

Monday was sort of like a punch in the gut...
...for me.

...and I find it shocking that I am SHOCKED that
Kyle has cancer that can, and is, growing and spreading.

It takes my breath away.

I know I am brutally honest in real life and
on my blog.  More honest than some people can stand.

And in my HEAD I know what's going on here.

But in my heart?

Ya, well that's a whole different story.
My heart may never quite catch up with my head.

I remember standing in the kitchen after work
on Monday with Kyle and all the kids.  

I was WEEPING and I am pretty sure I was talking
and per usual I was probably gnashing my teeth.

(whatever that means)

It felt like an out of body experience.

What was this news?

HOW could his cancer be spreading and growing.
(I think I wept and asked this question out loud)

HOW? 

HOW? 

HOW?

Well, because it does.
That's what cancer does.

Josh looked at me and said, "Mom remember Dad has
TERMINAL cancer.  This is not unexpected news.
We KNEW this was going to happen at some point."

But...but....but...

(I don't want it to happen)

But it did anyway.

I have clung to Kyle all week.  It pains me to
be away from him.  My heart has ached.  The tears
have slipped silently down my face. I have felt 
anger at the Dr for not explaining things clearly.

We like clear.  We like straight answers.

We have called back several times for better
explanations.  We have consulted with our other
oncologist for HIS insight on what he sees happening.

All of them have answered this way...

...It's time to get back to treatment (chemo)
to keep pushing this back for as long as it 
will respond.

And so chemo will start again soon.

We've had questions and conundrums sorting out
money and starting dates and have finally come
up with a plan.

And so, as we've said before: 

OUR HOPE IS IN THE FIGHT.  

THE BATTLE with this brutal monster.  So
we head back to battle and hope that Kyle's cancer
will respond for just a little bit longer on the
"frontline" chemo for this disease (the Gem/Cis)
and that it will push down this nasty little 
bugger and buy us some more time.

In the meantime, I have felt a greater sense 
of urgency to be with my family and to hold 
them close.

Kyle and I have left for the past 3 Saturdays
and spent almost the entire day together...

Doing silly things like errands or dollar movies
or talking or crying or laughing.  We hold on
a little bit tighter and gather the kids together
as often as they will let us.

We understand that this is a numbers game and
that almost 11 months in--we are lucky and 
blessed and lucky to have him here still.

I received a doozy of a cancer story this week,
one that left me SOBBING, about another "brother"
that just passed away in November.  This one
knocked the socks off of me and the wind out of
me.  

It was beautiful and long and detailed and told
the grimmest of tales about "the end".

And so Kyle and I both took it in.  
It was hard, but good (in a weird way) to "see"
what will be coming down the road for us.

It is brutal.  This cancer is brutal.

(brutal)

So for now, until we get "there"--we will continue
to live each day to the fullest.

Together.

We will continue to hold on a little tighter.

We will make time together a priority.

We're so grateful for the kind dinners brought
in this week when we were so emotionally exhausted.

Thank you for just doing it.

Thank you for checking on us.

Cancer sure is a 'reality check' and this
week put the 'reality' back in 'check.'

And that's what we've got today.

Reality.

Onward to battle.

Voices of Choloangiocarcinoma. Voice #2 Anne Rivera. A Sisters Story.

Voices of Cholangiocarcinoma, Voice #2.

A Sisters Story, told by Eddie's sister:  Anne Rivera.

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Hi Dorien!! 

Happy Monday!! 

I will try to capture the feelings of losing a sibling and how it's affected me. 

*************

I lost my brother to this horrible disease on March 4, 2013. 

(At the very young age of 46!)

His diagnosis obviously shook me to my core! 

As I am his youngest sister, I grew up fatherless so basically 

he was my father figure. 

I came across your blog on a Saturday, maybe in late April of last year. 

It was a rainy cold day in California and I remember sitting there bawling my eyes out! 

You captured every emotion that we had experienced. 
Every fear, every piece of anger, ALL of it.

It gave me peace knowing that I wasn't alone.

My brothers diagnosis wasn't just shocking because he was so young,

 but it was so unfair that he developed a terminal disease 

and left a wife and three kids behind

My brother Eddie's diagnosis was unthinkable.
 I nearly fainted when we got the final confirmation. 

With a parent I guess it's somewhat expected to lose them but I don't think 
we ever envision a death of a sibling.
 It's expected that they will always be there! 

I had some differences with my brother from time to time 
and I had regretted so many things. 

But I always thought there would be time to make it right. 
Suddenly I was faced with the fact that he would die. 
And I would not have much more time. 

At that point I made a promise to him and myself
that spending time with him was a priority. 

I knew I would have the rest of my life to travel, meet with friends, 
and lets not even talk about the career. 

I pretty much put my life on hold to walk this journey with him.

 I needed him to know that I was there for whatever we faced. 

I traveled over two hours to attend chemo days. 
Him and I would sit there and laugh and just talk or 
sometimes say nothing at all.
 I would cry, he would cry and that would be our day. 

The last year of my brothers life was the worst, 
but was the most precious.

 I truly got to spend such quality time and
 I didn't leave room for any regrets. 

I let him know how much I loved him and I assured him 
that I would be there every step, even after he was gone. 

His last few days on earth were beyond precious to me.
 I didn't leave his side. I sang to him, I read to him, I comforted him,
 and I held his hand when he left this earth. 

I wouldn't change a thing.
Although my brothers passing was unfair,
sad, and devastating it also made me stronger.

I love harder now, I don't stress over the small things.
I know there is nothing I can't handle and I don't ARGUE with my
siblings anymore. I run circles to make sure my siblings
 know I love them and we are closer.

Tragic events will do that. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

I look at this from time to time and reminds me of the bond siblings share 

no matter how far apart in age we are! I lost my dancing partner but everyday I know 

he's still holding my hand as I dance through life. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you Anne for sharing this beautiful and heartfelt story about your brother.

Again, it is AN HONOR for me to share these voices with the world.

They have touched my soul, filled me up, made me cry, made me love people
I have never met.

I have more to publish --and if by chance someone else reading this blog
would like me to share THEIR story, PLEASE feel free to contact me.

Via email:  dorienn@excite.com

OR

Facebook:  Dorien Nielson

I would love to add ANY, and all, voices to this that want to be heard.

Stay tuned for the next voice of Cholangiocarcinoma, coming soon.

PET Scan update

To any of our readers a quick note:

IF you don't like this blog?

I'm begging you please don't read it.  
No one is forcing you to.

I'm asking this in my MOST sincere kind,
loving, NON angry, passionate and from the heart
voice.  PLEASE do not read it any other way.
There is NO anger in this post at all.

Mostly just exhaustion.

IF it's too depressing, or has to much swearing,
or is "too real" or too sad or too anything?

Please don't read it.

No one is forcing you to.

If we don't have enough faith or hope
or belief in miracles? 

Don't read it.

We are pretty matter of fact kind of people.
This is how we BOTH have chosen to address this.

BOTH of us.  United.

Sadly we don't believe in unicorns and fairy dust.
OHHHH how I wish we did.  
Life was so much simpler when we did.

Believe.  In unicorns and fairy dust.

Or if you DO chose to continue reading it
and DON'T like it? 

Keep your feelings to yourself.

I will try and not judge you when you're 
going through a living hell.  When your entire
life has flipped upside down.  When you're
watching the father of your 4 kids FIGHT FOR HIS
LIFE.

Knowing what the inevitable end will be.

When you've walked a mile in our shoes?
THEN, and only then, can you make a statement about
how we feel and what we're going through.

Please don't judge our feelings.  They are raw
and real and they include anger and frustration
and hurt and sadness.

They also include love and gratitude and hope
and joy and laughter.

We feel ALL of those things.  

IF your 44 year old husband was going to die
from terminal cancer, you don't know how you
would react, or what you would feel, or think.

We have had a few not very nice messages lately
and honestly we don't appreciate them.

This blog leaves BOTH Kyle and I in a very
vulnerable place with our hearts and feelings.

And for the record, the things we feel?

They are, for the most part, the same things
everyone else going through this cancer feels
to one degree or another.

I've talked enough with my fellow CC wives to 
know this for a fact.

There have been holes in walls, crying, yelling,
screaming, hope, tears, vomiting, despair and joy
from ALL of them and their families.

ALL OF THEM.

(Kyle's a little sad I didn't manage to work 
in the F word somewhere here.  But I didn't, and 
never have actually used that real word here out
of respect for other people who may be offended by
use of that word.  I guess if you're offended by
the letter 'F'?  That's your problem.)

Now on to our news:


----------------------------------


We have news.

At first we thought it was okay news...but on
closer inspection, it's not as great as we thought.

Next time I'm sending Heidi to the Dr. appt to ask
more pointed questions.

The news is that on our 8 week break, Kyle's 
cancer has spread and grown...which our Dr failed
to mention in detail at Kyle's appt.

He has a new liver tumor and more involvement in
his lymph nodes and his lungs.

Simply put--the cancer is spreading.

Never good news with this cancer.

Or any cancer.

Now for the "good" news.

The Y 90 tumor?  Pretty much dead as a doornail.

But for me, that didn't outweigh the other news.

New tumors and growing cancer give ME a pit in my stomach.

We are off to try chemo again and will start soon.

So many complicated decisions lie ahead of us.

We get to "play God" with Kyle's life depending on
what we chose.  (Just FYI God?  I never want your job!)

Dr Sharma's concerns are this:

1. Kyle will become immune to this chemo.  

   Sadly there is no predicting when that happens.
   One day he will just have no response to it and
   then we know it's not working.

2.  Kyle's platelets.  The longer you stay on this
    chemo the harder it is on Kyle's bone marrow
    and platelets.  It will eventually get to the point
    where his numbers quit rebounding and he can no
    longer stay on this cocktail of chemo.

3.  Neuropathy ....this chemo cocktail can cause numbness
    in Kyle's extremities.  When that happens?  He's done
    with this chemo too.

Anyway, we have an insurance juggling question
and a finances question and a when to start chemo
again question and then we will make our decision.

My vote is tomorrow.  

Kyle is trying to be financially sound--
remember cancer costs a LOT of money, sadly.

I want to start fighting, like yesterday.

He's trying to save a couple thousand dollars.

I usually win the fights in our house, so we'll
see who wins this one. ;)

That's what I've got for today, a little good mixed
in with some not very good.

The Voices of Cholangiocarcinoma. Voice #1 Becky

A Day In My Life- Friday

On the Outside, this is a day of my life.

I'm a wife & mother . 

- I wake up at 5:30am, my husband is in pain. I sleep next to him in a day bed, he's in a hospital bed. I grab his 5 morning pills and have him take them.

- My boys 15 & 10 years old have no 
          school today. 

          Snow Day!

- The visiting nurse showed up, she comes once 
          a week to our house to check on my husband.

- Make a call to the Dr to request a prescription, 
          it will be ready to pick to up tomorrow.

- I make breakfast, hoping I don't make my 
          husbands nausea kick in.

- He asked for a nausea pill. 

- I get everything in order so I can go out 
          and run errands. I make sure my husband has 
          all he needs next to him and his 4 hr pain meds.

- First stop, Social Security office. I need 
          applications filled out for both our sons. 
          Since to many people called in sick the nice 
          lady said I should come back next week. 

-Got a text from my dearest friend asking if 
         need anything from the grocery store.

-Second stop, The Hospital Pharmacy. I have to 
         pick up more prescriptions for my husband. 
         You can't get these at your local CVS.

-Third stop, UPS Store. I need to fax more 
         documentation to Aetna. We're still waiting for 
         his short term disability to kick in.

- Gas Light goes on, I'm on "E". I wonder if 
         there's any money in our checking account to pay 
         for gas?

- I'm home, and my husband is in serious pain. 
          Is it from the surgery yesterday? The Cancer? 
         What? I need to keep an eye on him.

- My employer got my message that I'm ready to 
          return to work.

- It's 3:30 pm. I am exhausted. 

On the Inside, this is how I'm feeling:

- Please God, take his pain away.

- I love my dog. 

- Ugg, I hope they don't fight.

- I love my kids.

- Not you again, but I smile.

- Why can't they make it a 90 day prescription 
          not 30 days.

- I love my husband.

- Please don't throw up, I know it hurts 
          your body.

- Stupid SS office people.

- I love my friend.

- I hear sirens at the hospital, makes my 
          heartbeat fast with fear.

- Crap, I forgot the fax number. I'm in a 
          public place, don't freak out.

- I'm worried, he's looking kinda yellow.

- I don't want to work...I want to spend as 
          much time with my husband as possible.

- This is exhausting.... 

~Becky.  CC Wife.  

Husband currently doing battle with CC.

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Thank you for sharing a peek into your life Becky.

I love how so many of the "voices" of cancer are

all so different, yet so very much the same.

I have loved reading the stories that have been

sent so far and would love to post any

more that come my way.

I have had some people tell me this is the first time

they've written down their feelings and it was

heart breaking and healing all at once for them.

I have had some people tell me no one wants to

hear their stories.

I've had people thank me for being willing to share them.

I am HONORED to share your stories.

I want to share real voice of real people telling

real stories.  

THIS?  It is real life for us.  And them.

I wish I had a readership of thousands so that the

word could be spread about this disease.

I hope in sharing that it will START raising

some kind of awareness.

Stories by wives and spouses and siblings and friends.

I will try and post them each as quickly as I can.

They are the voices of courage and fear

and hope and grief and pain and ghosts and memories

and cholangiocarcinoma, and love.