My Husband Was Diagnosed With Cancer; However, We Learnt of this Development In a Completely Unacceptable Manner.

Gavin had just come out of bed late one Saturday morning and brought out one side of his neck cupped in his hand to show me. “Does this side seem bigger?” I expected to find some sort of pimple or bug bite on him but instead saw an odd bulge right in the center of his neck that intrigued me more than expected. “Does that hurt?” I inquired as I poked and prodded it; its hard surface and soft tissue around it gave a strong impression that something may be amiss. After tapping and poking it a second time, “Does swallowing hurt?” was his reply before shaking his head firmly to suggest, perhaps today would be an ideal day to visit a physician for diagnosis and advice. “Maybe today is also good time,” suggested. Gavin had started off by visiting a neighborhood walk-in clinic; when that proved unsuccessful, his primary care doctor quickly made arrangements to see him for an ultrasound that day. As we waited for results to return, my husband made sure to keep an eye on how my lump had changed every day by drawing a circle around it in an attempt to measure if it had grown; every day it did indeed, making it hard for both of us to avoid looking directly at it while conversing; often my eyes would switch from his eyes back onto his neck as we spoke back-and-forth about its status. He would catch me staring intently into space as his gaze passed between my own and mine as my gaze kept switching back between his eyes and his neck…! Once we received his results back, it became apparent he needed a biopsy, yet there wasn’t an appointment until three weeks away – that didn’t suit me at all, so I suggested we call a different office together until one finally gave in; waiting hours on hold before finally speaking with someone was the norm until finally someone gave in after much discussion of scheduling options was agreed upon by all involved. After what felt like days, finally the elevator stopped playing music, and I heard a woman’s voice on the phone. We introduced ourselves and explained our situation before beseeching her for help: “Please can you assist in helping us gain entry sooner?.” “Can we get in sooner?” we begged the lady from whom the phone call originated. “Please assist in helping us gain entry. ” “We can travel anywhere in Arizona; if it means our son can have his biopsy next week, we are willing to drive for hours if that means getting him an appointment as soon as Nov. 10”, said Ms. Taylor in her return call, before giving an earliest available appointment date of Nov. 10. We immediately began making plans with his care team as quickly as possible for him to begin treatment immediately after hearing that she could only offer us Nov 10 as an initial date. While waiting for his biopsy results and my response, I made Thanksgiving preparations my focus. Both ovens needed cleaning after every use – I checked on this obsessively as well. Furthermore, I experimented with three turkey recipes! Thanksgiving is Gavin’s favorite meal of the year and was delighted when I sent him multiple turkey recipes, such as one featuring Mayonnaise-based sauce he particularly enjoyed tasting before our families came over to celebrate in our newly purchased home for our inaugural Thanksgiving together. I especially liked trying one with peanuts as Gavin did as it helped him keep busy while his mouth waters. I used both wet-brine recipe from one social media chef and dry-brine rub from another social media chef for this turkey roast. With leftovers I created turkey pot pie, turkey tetrazzini and turkey meatballs! Gavin had called and left messages with everyone possible for weeks asking where his biopsy results were. Thanksgiving day brought everything I had wished for! Every dish came out at precisely the right time and cooked thoroughly; we even had enough leftover to send everyone home with takeaways! Being holiday hosts at my own home had long been one of my goals in adulthood; today was especially meaningful to me. Gavin had always been my world, so every day when he looked my way I let myself feel his surge of love wash over me. Every time my eyes caught the bulge in his neck it would send chills down my spine; knowing there could be any day an enormous shock or tragedy was imminently approaching was scary indeed. On Tuesday after Thanksgiving, something dramatic occurred: as I drove towards the grocery store for next week’s groceries, my phone buzzed from within my purse before reaching its intended destination: Gavin had sent a text. Before exiting my vehicle and taking action upon it, I read my messages carefully – one from Gavin had appeared first! He sent me an audio memo from his primary care doctor: “Gavin, just got your path report two minutes ago and it confirms you have malignant squamous cell carcinoma. So it seems you need an ENT surgeon for staging, removal or any number of issues? I can recommend someone – should this not already exist within your community – I trust to provide quality treatment. “Gavin, we need to act fast. Please visit your ear, nose and throat doctor immediately so they can fix this thing – let me know if any questions arise… Bye bye…” My body had shut down. No movement. No emotion could escape my system. Bye-bye!” My body felt paralyzed; there was nothing I could do but cry in pain and wait. The voicemail continued with his contact details as an apology for this news not being better:”Get in to see your doctor for fix this thing quickly if anything arises! Bye bye”. Bye bye”. My body had shut down completely: no movement was permitted or allowed as my mind could not comprehend my current state – let alone think ahead as to my usual self – leaving only horror of what my mind knew was needed from what had just occurred during that encounter with this voicemail message was due numb. Bye Bye Bye bye Bye bye Bye Bye bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye bye!” I found my entire self in bed as this time. Whenever she said anything she left bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye bye Bye bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye Bye bye.” My body would no move in this condition of illness due to lack of movement or lack thereof due to being stuck, either physically nor could my brain from processing this entire episode as she made contact only me by an entire. Bye! Bye. Bye.” my whole being immobil in pain that this time as my entire situation developed into my I couldn’s. Bye. Bye… Bye… But my entire experience of course of Bye…. Bye…… My Body became immovement….. Bye….. Bye…… Bye…..bye… bye… by bye….. Bye…… My Bye….. Bye…. Bye….. Bye…. Bye…… Bye! Bye until Bye…. Bye! Bye! Bye…… I could never move….. Bye! Bye-bye…..! My entire… When they had made sure of which, let alone could never having got worse…. I could just having run at first got better…… My entire being frozen from getting up sore… Byebye….. Byee…..Wa! Bye sore…….. Bye! Bye….. Bye…… (bye!) After hearing what followed after being left this was.. Bye… Bye!! Bye. Bye- Bye- Bye! Bye! Bye- Bye! Bye! Bye- Bye!! Int My stomach felt tight with cramps; it hurt so badly I wanted to cry but couldn’t. While we knew cancer was possible, hearing about it still shocked me and sent shockwaves through me. As soon as the car had moved forward I suddenly found myself standing in Gavin’s kitchen staring back with keys in hand in hand “I’m sorry honey”, saying goodbye as quickly as I could before entering with another key for Gavin as fast. “I apologize honey”. There was something thick in the air; I knew something had changed but didn’t want to disturb it by making loud noises or placing my purse down. Instead, I stood still and observed him, which made him uncomfortable; between forwarding me his voicemail message and arriving home, he made an appointment with an ENT specialist for 10 days later. At first this decision didn’t sit right with us and left me feeling helpless and disoriented; like moving through treacle. After one month since finding my lump we weren’t any closer to treating it and the anxiety in my body increased to new heights. At that moment, my heart broke for Gavin as well, knowing I would feel it even worse than him. Learning of his cancer diagnosis by voicemail left a bitter taste in my mouth that day; therefore I drove out the house the following afternoon to buy Christmas stocking stuffers for his children at an outlet store nearby. As I sat in the parking lot, my anger overflowed into every pore of my being and needed an outlet. So while looking up Gavin’s primary care physician’s number and punching out its call icon, an answering service picked up, providing options for different extensions – and that became my next role as I listened and watched how they responded to me. As his caregiver and advocate, I began venting my feelings on Gavin’s primary care physician’s answering service when hearing that beep for leaving messages. I expressed how disappointed I was that we learned so late of his illness’ potential life-threats. Do better,” I pleaded and then hung up. A few days after leaving my sarcastic voicemail message for Gavin’s doctor to read, Gavin responded via email saying they’d done all they could and that perhaps Gavin could relay that info back to me so I didn’t call back later. Gavin responded “I can tell her; however I cannot make promises at this time”. As we prepared for doctor’s visits and cancer treatments, we did what we could to take part in Christmas gatherings and parties. I honestly didn’t care much for Christmas-related gatherings or parties. Every smile forced onto my face felt forced and fake. Gavin wanted to enjoy all that Christmas 2023 had to offer in case it would be his final one, making sure he told my children and me everything that had been on his mind and gave as much of his attention and time to them as he possibly could. He would tell me things such as, ‘I know you would find someone else if this took its course; you are such an angel; everything will work out.” “Gavin, it was just hard for me. Your compliments and assurances felt like cop-outs,” I replied firmly. “If you die, I will be so furious!” The author and Gavin are waiting in anticipation to visit Gavin’s radiology nurse to address his burns. At this point, Gavin had become so weak he fell asleep whenever he sat down. Photo Courtesy Of Carrie SeversonWhen my husband first was diagnosed with cancer, every holiday felt like the biggest occasion of the year – everything had to look perfect, taste great and smell wonderful – otherwise we simply wouldn’t celebrate together as families. At Christmas time I wanted everyone around me to experience peace and remember every detail from our time together fondly; every gift must hold meaning for lifelong memories – not only on Christmas, but Valentine’s Day, my birthday and Fourth of July too. On New Year’s Day we spent it meeting with his chemotherapy doctor to map out his treatments, then on Valentine’s Day in radiation wing of hospital and on my birthday I only wanted him by my side as we walked down street together holding hands. No matter where or at what time we went for a walk, all that mattered was having my husband with me alive and healthy. To hear such life-altering news in such an unexpected and shocking fashion was deeply distressing to both of us – while cancer had long been part of life, neither one of us were prepared for its reality at this momentous point in time. Without support or empathy from healthcare professionals, we felt as if we were on our own navigating a course toward care for my son – until his treatment started and our experiences varied considerably from each other. Radiation and chemotherapy were effective treatments, however. When my client wanted to discontinue his regiment of drugs and radiation treatments, I became his enforcer, driving him back for each appointment until completion. While waiting for my son to finish cancer treatments, I sat patiently on hospital floors with one hand on my belly and another over my heart to keep from breaking apart. Accompanying him on his journey required me to let go of any expectations of outcomes; everything was out of my hands. My attention was focused solely on this moment in time; neither my partner or myself are the same individuals as before he received a cancer diagnosis, and supporting him through this journey has been one of the most humbling, heartbreaking, and eye-opening phases in my life. We Need Your SupportOther news outlets have since fallen back behind paywalls; but We Want You Support remains open. At HuffPost, we believe journalism should be free for everyone. Would you help provide essential news and updates during this crucial moment for our readers? Without your contribution we simply couldn’t make our work possible – can’t afford a contribution right now? No worries: there’s still ways you can support HuffPost by volunteering your time! Donate Now or donate here Support HuffPost by creating a free account and signing in as you read. Having been your supporter before, HuffPost could use some additional help from your side now more than ever! At HuffPost, our mission of providing free and fair news is more important than ever, but we couldn’t do it without your support. No matter if it is once or many more times donated – every contribution helps maintain free journalism for all. Thank you again if this is something new to you or an old supporter coming back as we could use all your assistance again soon. At HuffPost, our mission of providing fair news is of vital importance in this pivotal juncture — but we need your support in order to fulfill it! Your contributions help keep our journalism free for all and support HuffPost — thank you for being part of keeping journalism accessible for everyone. Already contributed? Visit Support HuffPost Log in now to hide these messages. He is now eight months post-treatment, and no recurrence of tumor has shown up since treatment stopped; something we celebrate every three months! As we near the holiday season and mark an end to what may have been our worst year ever, we’re taking time this holiday season and the end of this terrible year to consider what truly matters: that he is alive, we remain together as family units and can have our loved ones nearby for one last day of celebration and gatherings. Do you have an eye-opening personal story you would like published here on HuffPost? Find out what our editors are seeking by clicking here and submit a pitch at [email protected] as soon as possible – don’t delay in sending!