There's a military term that I believe most people are aware of: "Take Point." Essentially, if a squad is on patrol or walking into enemy territory, the squad leader will assign a soldier to be in the lead of the group. His job is to alert the others of any movement so the squad can act quickly and hopefully save lives. He is also the first one exposed to enemy fire. As a medic, I was never called on to take point. I did not have a combat roll and I was never exposed to enemy fire like so many other brave men and women. That doesn't mean I don't understand the concept.
I have always believed that it is my duty (I use this word with great intention) as a husband and father to take point for my family. That roll was immediately assignned to me the minute I put a ring on her finger, the minute I held my child for the first time. That's what a man, a real man does. He puts himself out in front, he will expose himself first. If a man and a woman are walking down the street and some dude jumps out with a knife or a gun, a real man will put himself in front of the woman he's with; if he was raised properly, he will do it without giving it a second thought. This is one of the reasons that men should learn some form of hand-to-hand combat. Just saying.
That's what you do when your wife has cancer...you take point. When my first wife (Terri), was going through all of the terrible things invovled with that diagnosis, things like surgery, chemotherapy, depression, etc., those outside of this terrible bubble didnt have a clue how of hard it was. It's one thing to know you're going into combat; it's something completely diffferent when you receive a cancer diagnosis. You are immediately faced with your own mortality. Diabetes, high blood pressue...you can do something about these. Change your diet, exercise, change your lifestyle. Those diseases can mame and kill you, but you can do something about it. But cancer...you more or less have to rely on the skill of an oncologist and possibly a surgeon. And then, no matter what your diet is or how much you exercise...when all is said and done...you wait and see. Most people who have never dealt with cancer directly don't really grasp this.
When Terri had cancer, some of our friends were a little put off when she didn't return calls and emails right away or when we didn't go to certain events even after she was on the mend. They had good intentions, but feeling left out of the loop, they didn't really understand. And when they expressed their feelings, I expressed mine; I told them to back off. I did it kindly, but I asked them to try to grasp her situation. I took point. I found myself having to do this even after she passed. And now, in a way, I'm having to do the same thing for Kim. I shouldn't have to. Life will always present uncomfortable situations with friends and family. Things said or not said, misunderstandings, hurt feelings. The reason is inconsequential; the fact that I have had to ask anyone to try and understand what she has been through and continues to go through every day is disheartening. I've talked with several cancer survivors and their loved ones...some times, you feel like nobody else gets it.
Unless you have had this damn disease or have been a direct caregiver, (I'm saying a husband, wife or parent), you really can't grasp what each day is like. Let me try to give you a picture from the caregiver's prospective. The person you've loved, perhaps for a long time or maybe just a few years has been dealt a shitty hand with no ace in sight. Doesn't matter how strong someone is mentally or physically, they are going to succumb to fear and doubt along with all of the crippling physical symptoms, usually from chemo. You hold their hand, you help them out of bed when they are too sick and weak to do it themselves. You are the shoulder they cry on and you put away your own feelings so that you can be the rock they need you to be. You help them toilet, make them soup they can't and won't eat. You pray together, try to come up with reasons to laugh together. You shave what little hair is left on their head after chemotherapy starts. You painfully, begrudgingly go to work and leave them in the care of others because you still have to put food on the table and pay the medical bills. You tell your wife over and over, "You are beautiful. Not because of your hair or your body. I see your soul. You are beautiful and you can do this. We can do this. I'm here with you and I'm not going anywhere. Ever." You take point.
Eventually, the one you love heals from the surgeries. The chemo stops, the hair grows back. He or she goes back to work and you try to get your life back. But the life you had, the one before cancer...that life is gone. Let me repeat that: the life two people had before cancer never returns. There is no "beating" cancer, ok? You overcome it as best you can, you live as best you can. But cancer is always in the background. Eventually, it is not a part of every day conversation. But the viceral memories of your experience as well as the physical scars...it's always there and it can always come back. Try to remember that if you know some one who has dealt with this God forsaken disease. Perhaps there's been a misunderstanding between you, maybe some hurt feelings...cancer should trump that. It should be a "get out of jail free" card. It should be...enough.
When I started doing PT in the nursing home environment, I would have the occasional cancer patient. I did my best to get them out of bed and down to therapy just like everybody else. I knew they were sick and the last thing anybody wants to do when the're sick is therapy. But I had a job to do, goals to meet and notes to write for the insurance company. Then, my wife had cancer. During that time and especially after she passed, any patient of mine dealing with any kind of cancer, well, they got speical treatment. Maybe we just try to get you up so you can use the toilet. Sit in your wheelchiar and you can watch TV while I move your legs, massage your shoulders a little bit. I'll try to make you comfortable, maybe laugh here or there. I can try to be a shoulder for you. Then came the day I just couldn't do that anymore.
So, this me taking point. What I would rather do for Kim, what I would have rather done for Terri, is to have stepped in front of that bullet. Let me take cancer on, let me be the one who suffers. That's not bravado...it is the deepest, heartfelt, gutteral prayer that any husband, wife or parent has uttered. It is one of the most helpless feelings in the world, especially if your life's work has been to care for others. But I can't take the cancer or the fear away. What I can do, whenever possible, is to make life a little easier. I can try my best to create a safe and restful place. In the meantime, I'll look out for any movement ahead.
I'll take point.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
Comments