I had been diagnosed with Endometrial cancer, had had a hysterectomy, and due to a wound infection was back in the hospital. The wound had dehisced- it was now a huge open wound. The infection was so severe, they put in a urinary catheter. I had been through chemo, radiation, and now I had this massive open wound across my belly from hip to hip.
I’d been through the mill, and was anxious just to go home and start to heal.
My first husband- a man who was proud to have been a volunteer first-aider for 20+ years saw the wound, then saw the catheter and said
“You’re not coming home with that pissbag.” and then “And, you stink- that cut smells horrible”.
And he left. I felt like the wind had been sucked out of me. It wasn’t my fault it stunk… that’s what infected wounds do.
The nurse came in, and asked when I was leaving- I explained, and she said “but you can’t stay here”.
These were the days before cell/ mobile phones. I called my Mom and Dad’s house, they weren’t in. I left a message on their ansaphone to please call or come up to the hospital.
I remember sitting there, and feeling an incredible and indescribable freezing chasm inside me, like someone had reached inside and pulled my heart out. I felt like I should have died. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t stay. I could hardly walk. I was in unbelievable emotional and physical pain. I was exhausted. I felt absolutely alone… it was horrible. It was 30 years ago- and as I write this, my insides are struggling with the memories of the pain and the rejection.
Fortunately for me, my doctor came in, I explained everything, and she said it was reasonable for me to stay another week… after all, I still had a wound. She ordered an IV, changed my antibiotics to IV, and ordered patient controlled analgesia by IV. As I nurse, I know she did those things to ensure I could stay.
My heart was broken at the rejection I felt. I cried for days. The doctor got a hold of my husband and read him the riot act, complete with four part harmonies and a 21 gun salute… she was livid and held nothing back. I’d never imagined someone like her could speak to someone the way she spoke to him. He was escorted from the hospital unit when he went to take a swing at her and she kicked him in (as she called it) his “Cere-ballum” (his nuts).
Yes, police got involved, my folks, his folks, hospital social worker- I felt like a non-entity. All these people in the room wound up arguing about who was gonna be stuck with me. His mom asked me to stick with him, and I agreed. She was a lovely woman, but his dad- his dad sided with his son.
I finally did go home, and because in the US if you can leave the house you don’t get home nursing care, and I could leave the house albeit with exceptional difficulties, I was on my own. I used to sit and put a huge mirror in my lap so I could see into the wound, I would clean it, pack it and dress it. My husband had admitted that he was afraid he was going to “catch” cancer from me, which explained some of his behaviour. It hurt so bad- he would do anything for anyone else… but he couldn’t do t for me.
We broke up, long story, and I wound up moving to England to be with a man I met on the internet.
Fast forward 20 years. I am now with husband 2, and have been diagnosed with cancer, again. The fear and panic rose- hubby knew all about the first time, I could not hide the massive ugly ropey scar… and his reaction to me saying “I have cancer” was to put his arms around me and say “No, WE have cancer. You are not going through this alone. You don’t need to face anything alone. I am with you every step. I might not know what to do, but if you teach me, I will learn…”
And he has. He gives me the injections I need. When I had a wound after surgery, he helped dress it. When I got septic and was very clueless with delirium, he was patient, loving, and did everything for me from feed me to wiping my bottom. And he does it all without making me feel shame, or fear, or embarrassment. He just *loves* me, and that love is in everything he does.
I made a much better choice with my second husband than with my first. In the first cancer episode, I had to fight alone and I felt so alone I can hardly even face it now… but the second time, I feel like I have a knight standing by me. As I write this, I can still feel the memories of rejection and loneliness, and I still have an irrational fear it will happen again- but my husband understands and leaves me notes. Although not an artist, he makes them little works of art with coloured ink, little pictures he’s drawn, and they always say the same things- “I love you. You’re not alone. WE can do this. I’m with you….”
I am very lucky.
After crossing paths with someone that I felt an instant attraction to. After talking non stop and finding so much of each other in ourselves, and after succumbing to our instincts.
Instincts is the best way I can put it.
Because I’d never felt more like a woman or never been in the presence of such a man. One that not only was blindingly attractive but intellectually stimulating and like a mirrored image of what I thought I needed. It was probably because I felt like I’d seen into his soul and he peered into mine. I wanted to be heard, cherished, wanted and needed to be his everything, literally. I wanted to do anything he said. Someone as aggressive as me, was happy to roll over and be what he needed. It was the only time I’ve felt my heart beat in my throat, I wanted to be with him forever. So badly.
After the moments faded, he became closed off and guarded. Circumstantial issues made him distant, dismissive and rude, then he stopped letting me in. For whatever reason, I attract complicated men whether they’re dependent or independent. After he and I went separate ways a piece of me was missing. It was like God decided to show me what I needed in my life and it just slipped away. Days after, I found that no one instantly understood me the same or would ever. That no one was quite like him and the types of relationships I was used to paled in comparison of a 2 week love bombing. I can say that the loneliness allowed me to think critically about my life and the relationships that didn’t last. To reconsider that I should choose overall happiness and realism instead of self sacrifice and blind loyalty. That I’d wasted years in dying relationships in fear that the dependent men I drew in would unalive themselves if I left.
I hate that things ended before they began, but realize it should be taken as a lesson to stop wasting my own time and be decisive for once. Stop wasting my life on a daydream. I had to walk away and didn’t wait up, the loneliness that resulted burned, but I think it was needed for me to grow up.