Wow! It's been a long time since I got on here and wrote something. Over a month. Time flies, I guess. Things have been quite crazy around here - mainly with work. I took on a huge project recently that's quite literally taken up my entire life. It's something I'm extremely passionate about...can you guess? That's right, it's about cancer.
A couple months ago, I pitched a proposal to my management about putting together a 30-minute special about the fight against cancer in North Texas. We're tying it all into the national Stand Up To Cancer which will be airing across many different networks on Friday, September 10th. Our local special will be airing on Saturday, September 11th.
Within this special, we're profiling local patients who have or currently are standing up to fight cancer. We're profiling doctors who have made it their life's work to beat cancer. We're taking a tour of a brand new, state-of-the-art cancer center that will be opening soon in Dallas. And, we're remembering Leah Siegel - a breast cancer patient I blogged about who passed away recently. It's 30-minutes full of information, compelling & emotional battles, inspiration, and hope.
I was talking to a friend of mine tonight about purpose. He's having trouble figuring out what his purpose in life is supposed to be. I have to wonder if I've found mine...courtesy of what happened to me and to Jason. I have such a passion, desire, and frankly a need to talk about cancer - the disease, those fighting it, and those trying to stop it. The more we talk the closer we get to figuring out a better way to beat it. It just makes me wonder if all of this happened so that one more voice - a voice with the opportunity to take to the airwaves - would be added to the chorus of millions of other voices already screaming.
I have put my heart and soul into this special. It's become a mission...my mission. After this week, it'll be over. But I don't want it to be. I want to continue doing this work. The last few weeks have been so incredible. I've met so many amazing people - patients and doctors - whose stories are just unbelievable. One woman, Gail, was diagnosed with breast cancer in her 30s. She beat it, and then over the next 15 years was diagnosed with lung cancer three different times. This past spring, she was diagnosed with breast cancer again! That's FIVE different cancer diagnoses over the last 30 years. Yet through all of that she has kept her amazingling positive attitude and most of all...her loving husband has stood by her side through it all. Their love truly has withstood the test of time.
I met a 16-year old girl who cried during her interview saying she wasn't ready to die. She was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia last year and just became the first in North Texas to have a specialized treatment. She's now looking forward to a future of finishing school and becoming an oncology nurse at the same hospital where her life was saved.
I interviewed a husband who just three weeks prior lost his wife to breast cancer. I, unfortunately, have the unique perspective of knowing what he's going through...so needless to say, we both cried our way through that interview. But more importantly, her life & legacy is already working wonders...reaching thousands of people around the world. It's incredible to me how much impact one life can have.
This may be my job, but this is someone else working through me. This is Jason's impact on my life. I wouldn't be doing any of this - telling any of these incredible stories - if it weren't for him and his stamp on my heart. As cheesey as that sounds...it's the honest to G-d truth. His battle with cancer, his bravery, his "no giving up" attitude inspired me beyond belief. He changed my life forever...and my work now is finally reflecting that. And, it's making me miss him even more. I so wish he was here with me as I worked my way through this special. I would've loved to come home, collapse in his arms, and tell him about all these awesome people I've met. I think he would've liked hearing their stories.
Until next time --
Stuart
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
A Day Of Mourning
I've been to one funeral since Jason's. It was for my brother's friends who died. But, somehow this funeral today feels different. It's still hours away, and already I'm on the verge of tears.
Leah embodied hope & fight to me in the months after Jason died. She was my beacon...the one person who I thought would kick the shit out of cancer. I was so beat down after what happened, that I hung onto every positive update I got from her. And then, just like Jason's case, things took a turn and never recovered.
It's just not fair. My colleague/friend Meridith - who also knew Leah - will be attending the funeral with me today. This is her second cancer related funeral in a month! Her best friend's husband recently died after battling his cancer for almost 10 years. It's just unreal.
At work, I've been given an incredible opportunity to help give a voice and put a face on cancer in North Texas. As you probably know, the big 3 networks are joining forces again this year for "Stand Up To Cancer". It'll be a live simulcasted event across the networks on September 10th. Last month, I put together a proposal for a localized Stand Up To Cancer special, and it was approved! I've already got more than a dozen stories lined up to start shooting over the next few weeks.
But, as I sit here in my suit...the very same suit I wore for Jason's funeral...I have pause about this wonderful special I'm going to be putting together. I know myself enough to know that I will become attached to the patients & families I profile. Am I setting myself up for more emotional cutting in the future if something happens to one of them? Probably so. Can I handle more of this? I'm not sure I can answer that today.
Either way, I will not let anything - grief, or otherwise - stand in my way of doing this special. It means the world to me to do it, and I will give it 110%. After it's done, though, I'm thinking I need to hang up my "cancer hat" for a little while and emotionally take a break. I'm finally understanding why my therapist was so concerned about me wanting to change careers and work in a cancer-related field. My wound is still so raw, and it's only pouring salt on it.
At least, that's how I feel today...but, maybe tomorrow will be a different story.
Until next time --
Stuart
Leah embodied hope & fight to me in the months after Jason died. She was my beacon...the one person who I thought would kick the shit out of cancer. I was so beat down after what happened, that I hung onto every positive update I got from her. And then, just like Jason's case, things took a turn and never recovered.
It's just not fair. My colleague/friend Meridith - who also knew Leah - will be attending the funeral with me today. This is her second cancer related funeral in a month! Her best friend's husband recently died after battling his cancer for almost 10 years. It's just unreal.
At work, I've been given an incredible opportunity to help give a voice and put a face on cancer in North Texas. As you probably know, the big 3 networks are joining forces again this year for "Stand Up To Cancer". It'll be a live simulcasted event across the networks on September 10th. Last month, I put together a proposal for a localized Stand Up To Cancer special, and it was approved! I've already got more than a dozen stories lined up to start shooting over the next few weeks.
But, as I sit here in my suit...the very same suit I wore for Jason's funeral...I have pause about this wonderful special I'm going to be putting together. I know myself enough to know that I will become attached to the patients & families I profile. Am I setting myself up for more emotional cutting in the future if something happens to one of them? Probably so. Can I handle more of this? I'm not sure I can answer that today.
Either way, I will not let anything - grief, or otherwise - stand in my way of doing this special. It means the world to me to do it, and I will give it 110%. After it's done, though, I'm thinking I need to hang up my "cancer hat" for a little while and emotionally take a break. I'm finally understanding why my therapist was so concerned about me wanting to change careers and work in a cancer-related field. My wound is still so raw, and it's only pouring salt on it.
At least, that's how I feel today...but, maybe tomorrow will be a different story.
Until next time --
Stuart
Monday, July 26, 2010
Another Devastating Loss
Wow. It's been more than a month since my last blog. I guess that means I a) didn't have the time to blog, or b) didn't have anything interesting to say. That's changed.
Today, the world lost another incredible person to cancer. Leah Siegel battled stage four breast cancer for less than two years. She died this morning at 4:30am.
I was first introduced to Leah through a story we were doing here at my TV station. Leah's story crossed our desk after she was diagnosed. They found her cancer just days after she gave birth to her third child. Our first story followed her through some of her treatment, and how she dealt with cancer while still being a full-time mom & wife. She truly was an inspiration to everyone fighting the disease. Her outlook was incredible. Here's the first story: http://cbs11tv.com/health/leah.siegel.cancer.2.960814.html
I remember laying on Jason's couch, wrapped in his arms, while we both watched that story. It aired exactly one week before we found out that Jason's cancer had exploded all over his body. Yet, at the time, we suspected something was going on. Her story hit such a core with both of us. I wrote to Leah the next day and introduced myself and told her our story. She was such a sweetheart and emailed me back right away. We began talking through email keeping up on each other's progress. After Jason died, she was so supportive, and even donated money to Team Jason - all while trying to keep herself afloat while paying for her own treatments.
We did a second story on Leah in November last year. She had just started a new clinical trial and things were starting to look up. For the first time in a while, Leah had hope that she was going to live for several more years. This story aired 8 months ago - http://cbs11tv.com/health/Leah.Siegel.breast.2.1302121.html.
I felt like I had become friends with Leah. We had met for meals, I visited her in the hospital, etc. She was a wonderful, wondeful person...and I loved spending time with her.
Leah was admitted to the hospital again a couple weeks ago, and things were not looking good. By last week, things had gone from bad to worse, and it was obvious to everyone - including Leah - that the end was near. In fact, that's what she said on her Facebook post. How very "21st century" announcing your imminent death online. Here's part of her post: "Elvis might be leaving the building. We are probably down to just days or weeks.So now it's time to leave my Facebook friends." That was her last post dated July 18th.
This morning, we received word that Leah had passed. And, once again, I was transported back to that dimly lit living room on Dunhaven, holding Jason's hand...hearing the hospice nurse say "He's gone." The other producer who worked on Leah's story contacted me, and we decided she deserved one more story. So here's the tribute piece we aired today at 5pm. As you can see, our anchor Karen was touched by Leah as well...http://cbs11tv.com/video/?id=56287@ktvt.dayport.com.
After her post on Facebook, I sent her a note and said "Hey, when you get up there...please find Jason and give him a big hug for me and tell him I love him." She replied "Is he allowed to associate with Jews up there?" Her sense of humor was intact all the way to the end. LOL
Leah Siegel, you will forever be loved. You will forever be remembered, and you will forever be missed.
Until next time --
Stuart
Today, the world lost another incredible person to cancer. Leah Siegel battled stage four breast cancer for less than two years. She died this morning at 4:30am.
I was first introduced to Leah through a story we were doing here at my TV station. Leah's story crossed our desk after she was diagnosed. They found her cancer just days after she gave birth to her third child. Our first story followed her through some of her treatment, and how she dealt with cancer while still being a full-time mom & wife. She truly was an inspiration to everyone fighting the disease. Her outlook was incredible. Here's the first story: http://cbs11tv.com/health/leah.siegel.cancer.2.960814.html
I remember laying on Jason's couch, wrapped in his arms, while we both watched that story. It aired exactly one week before we found out that Jason's cancer had exploded all over his body. Yet, at the time, we suspected something was going on. Her story hit such a core with both of us. I wrote to Leah the next day and introduced myself and told her our story. She was such a sweetheart and emailed me back right away. We began talking through email keeping up on each other's progress. After Jason died, she was so supportive, and even donated money to Team Jason - all while trying to keep herself afloat while paying for her own treatments.
We did a second story on Leah in November last year. She had just started a new clinical trial and things were starting to look up. For the first time in a while, Leah had hope that she was going to live for several more years. This story aired 8 months ago - http://cbs11tv.com/health/Leah.Siegel.breast.2.1302121.html.
I felt like I had become friends with Leah. We had met for meals, I visited her in the hospital, etc. She was a wonderful, wondeful person...and I loved spending time with her.
Leah was admitted to the hospital again a couple weeks ago, and things were not looking good. By last week, things had gone from bad to worse, and it was obvious to everyone - including Leah - that the end was near. In fact, that's what she said on her Facebook post. How very "21st century" announcing your imminent death online. Here's part of her post: "Elvis might be leaving the building. We are probably down to just days or weeks.So now it's time to leave my Facebook friends." That was her last post dated July 18th.
This morning, we received word that Leah had passed. And, once again, I was transported back to that dimly lit living room on Dunhaven, holding Jason's hand...hearing the hospice nurse say "He's gone." The other producer who worked on Leah's story contacted me, and we decided she deserved one more story. So here's the tribute piece we aired today at 5pm. As you can see, our anchor Karen was touched by Leah as well...http://cbs11tv.com/video/?id=56287@ktvt.dayport.com.
After her post on Facebook, I sent her a note and said "Hey, when you get up there...please find Jason and give him a big hug for me and tell him I love him." She replied "Is he allowed to associate with Jews up there?" Her sense of humor was intact all the way to the end. LOL
Leah Siegel, you will forever be loved. You will forever be remembered, and you will forever be missed.
Until next time --
Stuart
Monday, June 21, 2010
Moving On...I think
So, it's been a few weeks since my last post...since my return from Boston...since the year anniversary. It's amazing to me how much things have changed for me in such a short amount of time. What a difference a year makes.
Since my last post, I really feel like I've let myself move on. This past weekend, I went on two dates...with two different guys. And, I tell you what... it felt GREAT to be back out there. It felt good to be in the company of another man, to have that anticipation in the pit of my stomach, and to have that playful interaction that only comes with dating. I forgot how much I missed all of that.
A funny (funny weird, not funny haha) thing happened last weekend. I knew it was coming, I remembered it...of course...but on the actual day, it was completely gone from my mind. There was one more first...an anniversary of sorts. Last Sunday, June 13th, was the year anniversary of the day we buried Jason's ashes. I expected that I would remember that day and do something special to commemorate the day. But, I woke up without a thought and went through my day without a thought. I never once looked at the date otherwise I think it would've triggered. It wasn't until the next day that it hit me.
At first, I felt guilty that I had "forgotten" so quickly. I felt bad that I didn't do something that day to remember him. But, then, the more I thought about it...the more I forgave myself and realized that this is a good thing. I didn't need to remember that day. That was an awful day, and why would I want to commemorate that day a year later? There was no reason to mark the day, and subconciously I guess I knew that. My guilt melted away, and I accepted the fact that it was just part of moving on.
I've felt good the last few weeks. I've felt good about myself. I've felt good about my life and the direction its going. I feel that good things are ahead of me, and I'm looking forward to them. That's not to say that I haven't looked back...because I have. I've thought about Jason almost every day since I got back from Boston. I'm still working on Team Jason and reaching our $25,000 goal. I feel like, for the first time since he died, that I'm finally finding a balance between keeping him in my heart and beginning to live my life again. It feels good. And, I think Jason would be proud.
Until next time--
Stuart
Since my last post, I really feel like I've let myself move on. This past weekend, I went on two dates...with two different guys. And, I tell you what... it felt GREAT to be back out there. It felt good to be in the company of another man, to have that anticipation in the pit of my stomach, and to have that playful interaction that only comes with dating. I forgot how much I missed all of that.
A funny (funny weird, not funny haha) thing happened last weekend. I knew it was coming, I remembered it...of course...but on the actual day, it was completely gone from my mind. There was one more first...an anniversary of sorts. Last Sunday, June 13th, was the year anniversary of the day we buried Jason's ashes. I expected that I would remember that day and do something special to commemorate the day. But, I woke up without a thought and went through my day without a thought. I never once looked at the date otherwise I think it would've triggered. It wasn't until the next day that it hit me.
At first, I felt guilty that I had "forgotten" so quickly. I felt bad that I didn't do something that day to remember him. But, then, the more I thought about it...the more I forgave myself and realized that this is a good thing. I didn't need to remember that day. That was an awful day, and why would I want to commemorate that day a year later? There was no reason to mark the day, and subconciously I guess I knew that. My guilt melted away, and I accepted the fact that it was just part of moving on.
I've felt good the last few weeks. I've felt good about myself. I've felt good about my life and the direction its going. I feel that good things are ahead of me, and I'm looking forward to them. That's not to say that I haven't looked back...because I have. I've thought about Jason almost every day since I got back from Boston. I'm still working on Team Jason and reaching our $25,000 goal. I feel like, for the first time since he died, that I'm finally finding a balance between keeping him in my heart and beginning to live my life again. It feels good. And, I think Jason would be proud.
Until next time--
Stuart
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Beyond A Year
It's now June 1, 2010. No longer can I say "Last year, when Jason was alive...". I'm sure there will still be a few "firsts" that I stumble on over the next few months, but for the most part... the "firsts" are done and gone. And, quite honestly, I'm glad.
I've said it a few times in this space... I often feel that the anticipation of an upcoming event, anniversary, etc is harder than the actual thing itself. The same was definitely true for the year anniversary. I was dreading that day... a lot. But, the actual day itself was actually quite nice. Jerrod & I spent the day with Jason's parents just relaxing on their beautiful deck...enjoying the incredible weather. We laughed, we cried, we told stories about Jason... we talked about the final days, and remembered the days that followed. We definitely laughed more than we cried, which I think is a good thing. Progress, I guess. It was exactly the way I envisioned the day would be...and it was fantastic.
Saying goodbye to Jason's parents, and then standing at the grave one last time before we left town... I felt a sense of peace about it all. For the first time since this all happened, I don't know when I'll be returning to Boston to see them. I had a bit of guilt about that...that I was leaving everyone behind, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized...I have to do what's best for me. I need to pick myself up. I need to start moving on. I need to do this for me...and I need to do this for Jason because I know it's what he'd want.
Getting on that plane to come home, it was almost liberating. By the time I landed in Dallas, I felt this new sense of calm come over me. The year was done. It was over, and I feel like I gave myself permission to release and let go. This morning walking into work, a colleague of mine mention how different I looked. She said I looked more refreshed, more "together" than I have in months. It made me wonder how much I had let the 1-year anniversary affect me without even realizing it. I guess it had...though I wasn't aware of it.
So now, beyond a year, it's onward and upward. I think I've said it before, but this time I feel like I actually have the means to do it -- I am ready to move on. Jason will forever be a part of my life and my heart. But now, I feel like I can begin to let the other parts of my heart beat stronger... and hopefully in the future... be filled with love again for another. There is no greater thing in this life than to be loved and give love in return. I can't wait to feel that again.
Until next time --
Stuart
I've said it a few times in this space... I often feel that the anticipation of an upcoming event, anniversary, etc is harder than the actual thing itself. The same was definitely true for the year anniversary. I was dreading that day... a lot. But, the actual day itself was actually quite nice. Jerrod & I spent the day with Jason's parents just relaxing on their beautiful deck...enjoying the incredible weather. We laughed, we cried, we told stories about Jason... we talked about the final days, and remembered the days that followed. We definitely laughed more than we cried, which I think is a good thing. Progress, I guess. It was exactly the way I envisioned the day would be...and it was fantastic.
Saying goodbye to Jason's parents, and then standing at the grave one last time before we left town... I felt a sense of peace about it all. For the first time since this all happened, I don't know when I'll be returning to Boston to see them. I had a bit of guilt about that...that I was leaving everyone behind, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized...I have to do what's best for me. I need to pick myself up. I need to start moving on. I need to do this for me...and I need to do this for Jason because I know it's what he'd want.
Getting on that plane to come home, it was almost liberating. By the time I landed in Dallas, I felt this new sense of calm come over me. The year was done. It was over, and I feel like I gave myself permission to release and let go. This morning walking into work, a colleague of mine mention how different I looked. She said I looked more refreshed, more "together" than I have in months. It made me wonder how much I had let the 1-year anniversary affect me without even realizing it. I guess it had...though I wasn't aware of it.
So now, beyond a year, it's onward and upward. I think I've said it before, but this time I feel like I actually have the means to do it -- I am ready to move on. Jason will forever be a part of my life and my heart. But now, I feel like I can begin to let the other parts of my heart beat stronger... and hopefully in the future... be filled with love again for another. There is no greater thing in this life than to be loved and give love in return. I can't wait to feel that again.
Until next time --
Stuart
Friday, May 28, 2010
May 28, 2010
It's Friday, May 28, 2010. It's been one year since I watched the love of my life slip away from me. I've been dreading this day for weeks now, but I'm starting to learn the anticipation of the event is actually worse than the event itself. Today has actually been a pretty great day. I think it's a day that Jason would've loved since...well... it was all about him. LOL I'm kidding. But seriously, it was a good day.
After breakfast, Jerrod and I went to the cemetery for some private time. It was there that I had my "big breakdown" for the day. Walking up to his gravestone, a wave of sadness came over me. As I drew nearer, the tears just started to fall. I walked to the back of the stone where Jason's name is engraved, I sat down in the grass, and I just cried. I touched his name...retracing it with my fingers...Jason Andrew Harmon...and then I put my hand on the date...May 28, 2009. A date that forever changed my life.
I sat there for a few minutes and continued to touch his name, cry, and tell him how much I miss & still love him. Jerrod was so sweet to walk around and give me a few minutes to myself. I stood up as he walked back over, and we hugged in front of the stone. I expressed how incredible it was to me that the pain was just as great one year later as it was the day it happened. It blows my mind that in a year it's never lessened...not that I really expected it to. We stood there and cried together for a minute before I headed back to the car to give him some time alone.
A few minutes later, we were on our way to Jason's parent's house where we remained for the majority of the day. We sat outside on their beautiful deck enjoying this amazing weather. We sat and talked about Jason, remembering the final days...but not the sad stuff. We remembered the funny things, the jokes, the comments...the things that made us laugh. There were a few tears here and there, but it really felt good to laugh. Later in the afternoon, the four of us headed back to the cemetery to mark the event together. A few more tears, but there was more laughter, too.
Jason's friends John-Michael and his wife Heather drove down from New Hampshire to meet us for dinner. John-Michael had been there with us on Jason's final day last year, so we were so happy to get to spend the evening with them on this special day. Dinner was fantastic, and so was the company. More stories, more laughter... it really made for the perfect ending to a great day of memories.
On top of all of that, (as of this writing) our "Donate On 28" campaign for Team Jason helped land us another $3,900! Combined with our total, that gives Team Jason $11,900 so far this year. That's already $1,000 more than what we raised last year following his death. Absolutely INCREDIBLE!
Jason would've been proud.
After breakfast, Jerrod and I went to the cemetery for some private time. It was there that I had my "big breakdown" for the day. Walking up to his gravestone, a wave of sadness came over me. As I drew nearer, the tears just started to fall. I walked to the back of the stone where Jason's name is engraved, I sat down in the grass, and I just cried. I touched his name...retracing it with my fingers...Jason Andrew Harmon...and then I put my hand on the date...May 28, 2009. A date that forever changed my life.
I sat there for a few minutes and continued to touch his name, cry, and tell him how much I miss & still love him. Jerrod was so sweet to walk around and give me a few minutes to myself. I stood up as he walked back over, and we hugged in front of the stone. I expressed how incredible it was to me that the pain was just as great one year later as it was the day it happened. It blows my mind that in a year it's never lessened...not that I really expected it to. We stood there and cried together for a minute before I headed back to the car to give him some time alone.
A few minutes later, we were on our way to Jason's parent's house where we remained for the majority of the day. We sat outside on their beautiful deck enjoying this amazing weather. We sat and talked about Jason, remembering the final days...but not the sad stuff. We remembered the funny things, the jokes, the comments...the things that made us laugh. There were a few tears here and there, but it really felt good to laugh. Later in the afternoon, the four of us headed back to the cemetery to mark the event together. A few more tears, but there was more laughter, too.
Jason's friends John-Michael and his wife Heather drove down from New Hampshire to meet us for dinner. John-Michael had been there with us on Jason's final day last year, so we were so happy to get to spend the evening with them on this special day. Dinner was fantastic, and so was the company. More stories, more laughter... it really made for the perfect ending to a great day of memories.
On top of all of that, (as of this writing) our "Donate On 28" campaign for Team Jason helped land us another $3,900! Combined with our total, that gives Team Jason $11,900 so far this year. That's already $1,000 more than what we raised last year following his death. Absolutely INCREDIBLE!
Jason would've been proud.
May 28, 2009
It's Thursday, May 28, 2009.
4:45am: I woke up after hearing some moaning coming from the living/dining room. It was Jason, but it didn't sound like he was in pain. Then, there was a knock at my door. It was Brenda, the hospice nurse who had been staying overnight. She asked me if I could come help her shift Jason to one side so she could do something. I jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom, and then ran to Jason's bedside.
4:55am: We finished what she said she needed to do, and rolled Jason back on his back. I noticed something about his eyes, though...something not right. They were half open, sort of, and all I could see was white...as if his eyes had rolled back. I also noticed that his breathing had changed, becoming more shallow. He was reaching for every breath. I looked at Brenda and asked "Is this happening now?" She said "Yes, I think so." I immediately started screaming for Jason's parents to wake up and get to the bedside as quick as possible. Jason made it very clear that he wanted to go with me on one side and them on the other...and I was determined to make that happen (whether he was aware of it or not).
5:00am: After a couple minutes of screaming, his parents came out of the guest bedroom and ran over to Jason. I was already crying, and didn't need to say much for them to figure out what was happening. We each took our positions - I was holding his left hand in mine, and the two of them held his right hand. I waited a beat for them to say something, but no one spoke. The only sound we heard was his breathing which was becoming more shallow and hollow. I began to speak - summoning whatever strength I had left in me. "Jason, it's time to go. You need to go. You need to let go. Don't worry about us. We're going to be just fine. You need to release yourself. Let the pain go away. Just let go, sweetheart, it's ok to let go." I just kept saying that over and over again. Finally, his parents both said something, reassuring him as I had been doing. We told him how much we loved him, how much we would miss him, but it was time to go.
For five minutes, we stood there caressing his hands, his face, talking to him. With each passing minute, his breathing got slower and slower. Each time one of us said "It's ok to let go", more time would pass between breaths...
5:06am: Jason struggled for a breath. He held it in, and then a long exhale...making a sound like nothing I've ever heard. It's a sound I will never forget. And then....silence. No movement. No breathing. Nothing. At that moment, I let out a cry... and all of a sudden, he took another breath. But just one, and again, a long exhale. I held my breath at the same time. Silence.
Jason was gone.
No one spoke for a minute or so, and then Brenda - who had been using a stethoscope to listen to Jason's heart rhythm looked up at us and said "I'm so sorry." His parents and I burst into tears...the two of them hugging, and then the three of us. We broke away...stood there staring at Jason's body - now lying there without his spirit inside.
I broke away to begin making the phone calls that needed to be made. I called my parents. Then I called his friends Jerrod, Rob, Mike, and John-Michael. Meanwhile, Brenda had already called in and reported the death and asked for the funeral home to come and get him. Luckily, that didn't happen for a couple more hours. It was enough time for the other four guys and my parents to arrive at the house and pay their respects. We each took turns sitting by his side, holding his hand....caressing his face. A few times, I even kissed his forehead...and once, his lips. He was already so cold.
After 7am, the funeral home arrived to take him away. They entered the house and asked everyone to leave. They recommend that because seeing what they do can be quite traumatic for grieving families. I didn't care. I had to stay there to make sure he was treated right. I never left his side before, and I wasn't going to start now. I watched as they lifted his body off the hospital bed and placed him (sheet, clothes, and all) on their gurney. I watched as they drew an ugly green blanket over his feet, legs, torso, and then finally his face. While everyone else waited outside, I watched as they wheeled the gurney out the front door and down the front steps. I ran outside and watched as they took the man of my dreams, the love of my life...and hoisted his body into their van. I stood there, crying, screaming at times...and watched as they drove away...down the street...away from me...away from everyone who loved him.
It was done.
Jason was gone.
When I first started going to therapy right after Jason was diagnosed, my counselor gave me a book to read called "Final Gifts". It was written by two hospice nurses, and it detailed the final days of many patients they cared for. It talked about how the dying will choose when, where, and who they want present when they cross over. I fully believe that book gave me the strength to know what to do when the time came. Jason's moaning that morning was his way of saying "Hello! This is happening, and I need you all here." I later confirmed that with Brenda...who confided that she really didn't need my help. She only woke me because she knew we were only minutes away.
The rest of the day was spent making an obscene number of phone calls, writing emails, and setting up the memorial service which was held two days later. That night, we all went out to dinner...and it felt good to get out of the house for a bit. While we ate, we shared stories about Jason, reminisced about the things that made us laugh. In particular, we joked about one of his favorite movies - Drop Dead Gorgeous. So, when we got back to the house, we decided to pop the movie in and watch. It felt good to laugh...knowing that he was right there laughing with us.
It's now been on year since that incredibly awful day. And I can honestly say, it hurts just as much now as it did the day it happened. May 28th will forever be a day of sadness for me. Not only is it the day that cancer entered our lives, it is now also the day that Jason left our lives. Physically left our lives. Spiritually, he remains very much apart of our lives. And for that, I'm eternally grateful.
4:45am: I woke up after hearing some moaning coming from the living/dining room. It was Jason, but it didn't sound like he was in pain. Then, there was a knock at my door. It was Brenda, the hospice nurse who had been staying overnight. She asked me if I could come help her shift Jason to one side so she could do something. I jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom, and then ran to Jason's bedside.
4:55am: We finished what she said she needed to do, and rolled Jason back on his back. I noticed something about his eyes, though...something not right. They were half open, sort of, and all I could see was white...as if his eyes had rolled back. I also noticed that his breathing had changed, becoming more shallow. He was reaching for every breath. I looked at Brenda and asked "Is this happening now?" She said "Yes, I think so." I immediately started screaming for Jason's parents to wake up and get to the bedside as quick as possible. Jason made it very clear that he wanted to go with me on one side and them on the other...and I was determined to make that happen (whether he was aware of it or not).
5:00am: After a couple minutes of screaming, his parents came out of the guest bedroom and ran over to Jason. I was already crying, and didn't need to say much for them to figure out what was happening. We each took our positions - I was holding his left hand in mine, and the two of them held his right hand. I waited a beat for them to say something, but no one spoke. The only sound we heard was his breathing which was becoming more shallow and hollow. I began to speak - summoning whatever strength I had left in me. "Jason, it's time to go. You need to go. You need to let go. Don't worry about us. We're going to be just fine. You need to release yourself. Let the pain go away. Just let go, sweetheart, it's ok to let go." I just kept saying that over and over again. Finally, his parents both said something, reassuring him as I had been doing. We told him how much we loved him, how much we would miss him, but it was time to go.
For five minutes, we stood there caressing his hands, his face, talking to him. With each passing minute, his breathing got slower and slower. Each time one of us said "It's ok to let go", more time would pass between breaths...
5:06am: Jason struggled for a breath. He held it in, and then a long exhale...making a sound like nothing I've ever heard. It's a sound I will never forget. And then....silence. No movement. No breathing. Nothing. At that moment, I let out a cry... and all of a sudden, he took another breath. But just one, and again, a long exhale. I held my breath at the same time. Silence.
Jason was gone.
No one spoke for a minute or so, and then Brenda - who had been using a stethoscope to listen to Jason's heart rhythm looked up at us and said "I'm so sorry." His parents and I burst into tears...the two of them hugging, and then the three of us. We broke away...stood there staring at Jason's body - now lying there without his spirit inside.
I broke away to begin making the phone calls that needed to be made. I called my parents. Then I called his friends Jerrod, Rob, Mike, and John-Michael. Meanwhile, Brenda had already called in and reported the death and asked for the funeral home to come and get him. Luckily, that didn't happen for a couple more hours. It was enough time for the other four guys and my parents to arrive at the house and pay their respects. We each took turns sitting by his side, holding his hand....caressing his face. A few times, I even kissed his forehead...and once, his lips. He was already so cold.
After 7am, the funeral home arrived to take him away. They entered the house and asked everyone to leave. They recommend that because seeing what they do can be quite traumatic for grieving families. I didn't care. I had to stay there to make sure he was treated right. I never left his side before, and I wasn't going to start now. I watched as they lifted his body off the hospital bed and placed him (sheet, clothes, and all) on their gurney. I watched as they drew an ugly green blanket over his feet, legs, torso, and then finally his face. While everyone else waited outside, I watched as they wheeled the gurney out the front door and down the front steps. I ran outside and watched as they took the man of my dreams, the love of my life...and hoisted his body into their van. I stood there, crying, screaming at times...and watched as they drove away...down the street...away from me...away from everyone who loved him.
It was done.
Jason was gone.
When I first started going to therapy right after Jason was diagnosed, my counselor gave me a book to read called "Final Gifts". It was written by two hospice nurses, and it detailed the final days of many patients they cared for. It talked about how the dying will choose when, where, and who they want present when they cross over. I fully believe that book gave me the strength to know what to do when the time came. Jason's moaning that morning was his way of saying "Hello! This is happening, and I need you all here." I later confirmed that with Brenda...who confided that she really didn't need my help. She only woke me because she knew we were only minutes away.
The rest of the day was spent making an obscene number of phone calls, writing emails, and setting up the memorial service which was held two days later. That night, we all went out to dinner...and it felt good to get out of the house for a bit. While we ate, we shared stories about Jason, reminisced about the things that made us laugh. In particular, we joked about one of his favorite movies - Drop Dead Gorgeous. So, when we got back to the house, we decided to pop the movie in and watch. It felt good to laugh...knowing that he was right there laughing with us.
It's now been on year since that incredibly awful day. And I can honestly say, it hurts just as much now as it did the day it happened. May 28th will forever be a day of sadness for me. Not only is it the day that cancer entered our lives, it is now also the day that Jason left our lives. Physically left our lives. Spiritually, he remains very much apart of our lives. And for that, I'm eternally grateful.
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