Two years ago Cancer had taken my love from me. A couple of days after his death I wrote this post to answer questions, quell any misgivings, to release the amount of thoughts that were consuming me. I can read this now without crying but I can see everything so vividly, hear every cry and whimper and taste the life slipping away from him. I'm not fine. I'm not over it. But I no longer mourning his death. I've come to terms with it. Miss him dearly but the memories I have bring more happiness than pain to me.
Here's the post:
For those that don't know, Sunday afternoon June 19,2011 (Father's Day) my fiance Taylor Siluwe passed away in our home. It doesn't seem at all real.
We learned of his Cancer at the end of April. Understandable the initial shock was jarring but we were all on board to fight this with all of our might. We set up an appointment with the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. We didn't end up there.
I can't remember what day it was that I was going to run errands but I'm glad that I didn't. I walked upstairs to the bed room and found him sitting on the bed unresponsive with drool coming out of his mouth. I asked him to speak to me, to say my name, and the gibberish that come out nearly scared me to death. I called 911 and had them come get him. Darryl contacted his cousin and mother for me. :) his mother beat us to the hospital. The paramedics assumed that he tried to commit suicide which was clearly not the case. In the ER he had a seizure and I thought he was going to die then. the thrashing the scream that was coming out of his mouth is still so very haunting.
Fast forward he was back to doing fine. He was in the hospital for a while talking, laughing but he was in pain. His back was killing him.
Fast forward, he's home. We set up a nurse to come. I'm taking care of him, handling the medication, trying to feed him, trying to deal with his pain. It was hard very very hard. Watching him deteriorate was harder than anything else. The constant vomiting, dehydration, lack of sleep and this is all before his 1 week of chemotherapy.
Fast forward, A week of chemotherapy at Christ Hospital. He put on a smile for everyone. At the end of chemotherapy, Darryl, Troy and myself went up to see him. Seeing him sitting in the chair with his legs crossed reading, looking healthy was like a ray hope that this was working. He said his pain was gone, he felt fine. His breathing was normal he was no longer panting. Then we signed off for him to have radiation therapy for his brain. His fear was that his mind wouldn't survive, that he would lose his essence.
Fast forward, we get him home he has lost sooooooooooooooo much weight. he starts his 8 days of radiation and each day he's getting weaker and weaker. His appetite is non existent. his pain is back and worse than ever. He's vomiting a lot. The only thing he could eat was the frozen blueberry puree I made and frozen seedless grapes. Anyway radiation ends on Tuesday June 14th. Thursday June 16th I had errands to run so he went to his moms house for a couple hours to give me a break. His needs for oxygen had grown, he had been vomiting blood, he was very weak. He got him back to the house, I carried him upstairs into the bed room. I started working on him. Giving him crushed ice and water to replenish himself. I feed him the frozen blueberry puree so he can have something in his stomach. It took an hour but he was good, his eyes were bright he was talking he felt better.
Friday June 17th, we go to the oncologist, he's so very weak. he needed a walker and even with that each step had him in excruciating pain. the oncologist wasted no time when he saw Taylor. He told us to get him to the hospital. At this point Taylor stopped walking, he was way too weak to move and hold up his own weight. We spent 10 hours in the emergency room with him spitting up blood, pure thick blood and everyone is taking their precious time. I was beyond pissed off there. I'm husband is dying in this bed and he doesn't even have a room yet. you've put him on 1 bag of fluids that finished hours ago and yet no fucking doctors has come to see him. We leave.
Saturday June 18th, I wake up to a text from his mother. Taylor signed a Do Not Resuscitate form. My heart broke. Darryl and I head to the hospital. Family and friends everywhere. Once again I was pissed. My baby was in bed sitting in his own piss. He no longer had control of it.
Fast Forward, he says "I want to go home. I don't want to die in a hospital". My heart is breaking even more and my stomach is starting to hurt. There's no hope. The Cancer won, its taking my baby away. We arranged for Hospice care. Darryl coordinates with family and friends to make the living room a comfortable spot for him to be... At this point our only m.o. is to make sure he is pain free and comfortable. We get him in the house he's put in the bed. He's talking, smiling, watching TV, drinking water, eating frozen grapes. He was putting on a show for us. I stay with him as people leave. Gave him morphine every 4 hours to keep him pain free. Richard gets here. Talks to Taylor. I hung up the wind chime in front of him and put on some soothing music.
Sunday June 19th, Taylor isn't speaking, seeing him struggle to talk wasn't good... Slowly he becomes more and more unresponsive, he's struggling to breath, then he takes his last big breath. His lips lost their color, his heart stopped. He was finally at peace. No More Pain.
Its funny, the pain I feel when I think about him is in my stomach. Anyway, there's an abbreviated version of the last few weeks of his life.
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