Four Months To Live

I remember the day so well when I received the news of just how bad Andrew’s cancer was progressing. I put a call into our Stanford nurse because Andrew was still losing weight and he was having pain in his stomach. I was at school and I had a small group of 2nd graders at my teacher table and we were working on some math problems. My cell phone rang, and I excused myself to the hallway. (There was another teacher in the room plus a volunteer who watched the class). I talked to the nurse for a few minutes and I remember telling her I need to be told exactly what is going on and how much time Andrew has. She said these words that I will never forget, “We are hoping to get him past four months.” I am sure I was in shock, and I calmly hung up the phone, thanked her for her time, and walked back into the classroom. I took a deep breath, I sat in my chair, I pulled the sides of my cardigan sweater together a little tighter, and I began helping my students.

A few minutes past by and I glanced around the room and I saw all the other kids quietly doing their work. Suddenly, it felt like a freight train just ran in to me. I kept saying to myself, “four months, four months, four months.” “Oh. My. Gosh, four months.” Tears are welling up in my eyes. I hear, “Mrs. Siderius, are you okay?” from one of my students. I start panicking and walk to my desk and I started opening up random drawers almost as if I was looking for something. As I stand there opening and then closing all my desk drawers, I realize I am looking for more time. More time? Why would there be time in my drawers? How could this be? How is this happening? So many memories come flashing through my mind of birthdays, holidays, and vacations that we would never get to have together again. I pinch myself just in case I was in a bad dream and I sat down. Although, it was not a bad dream; it was our reality. I cupped my hands over my face to try and hide the tears. Andrew has four months, what am I supposed to do? He does not know this yet, do I tell him? How do I tell him something like this? How do I tell the man I married, the father of our children, that he likely only has four months to live?

I ended up taking the remainder of the day off because I knew I needed to tell Andrew. There was no way I would be able to keep that inside all day and pretend that everything was okay. I made my way home and he too worked half a day because he was not feeling well. I did not call him on my way home like I usually do because I did not want him to know something was up and I really did not want to tell him over the phone. When I walked in the door of our house, he was sitting in his favorite spot on the couch and I dropped my purse and bag on the kitchen counter. He looked surprised that I was home. I walked over to him and I sat next to him. I grabbed his hand and told him I needed to tell him something. His eyes got big, he paused the tv, and his body slightly stiffened as he prepared himself for something, he could tell was not good. My voice was a little shaky, yet I held strong, for at least a few seconds. I explained how I talked to the nurse from Stanford earlier that morning and that was as far as I got before my voice cracked and alligator tears filled my eyes. Andrew squeezed my hand, in a way saying to continue as his eyes also filled with tears. I took a couple deep breaths and I told him that “hopefully you make it four months.”

He closed his eyes and his body shook because he was crying so hard. I threw myself on top of him and I think I almost suffocated him because of my jacket and hair was covering his face. We just hugged and hugged, tighter and tighter. He started apologizing and I said, “Stop, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. You are so amazing and such a terrific father and husband.” I think we both knew from the beginning of his diagnosis that the outlook and the possibility of him beating this horrible cancer was low, but it was at this moment that we both realized just how serious this was. Was he really going to live for only a few months? We started talking about him writing letters to the kids for the milestones in their lives that he would never be able to be a part of. Andrew wanted to write numerous letters for when they each graduated high school and college, for their wedding day, and for the day they welcome their own children to the world. He wanted to do so much for them and tell them so many things. How do you write a letter to your children when you know you are never going to be here to see them go through life? How do you put what you want to say in words?

Also, during this conversation, I asked Andrew what his wishes were, if he wanted to be buried or cremated, and what he envisioned his service to look like. I was amazed because he answered all of those questions so matter of fact. He did not hesitate; he knew exactly what he wanted, and he was still able to make me laugh during such a horrible and heartbreaking moment. Andrew asked me the same questions as to what I would want in case something happened to me. I really struggled thinking about this and coming up with what I would like, and even to this day, I still do not have a clear picture. This conservation was so honest, real, and it exposed such raw emotions. We were so much stronger as a couple during the entire time he was sick than we had ever been before. It was a true testament of our wedding vows, “In sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

Even though we knew the outcome was not going to be good, that never once stopped either one of us from fighting. In fact, hearing that Andrew had less than four months to live, I did not care how many phone calls I needed to make or how many times I needed to explain his story. I could not stop researching other doctors, hospitals, and trial drugs. I knew if I just sat back and did not try my absolute best, I would never be able to forgive myself. I was so hopeful that something was going to work out and I tried doing all that I could to help him. I really thought he was going to be a miracle and surprise everyone. I imagined him waking up one morning to find that the cancer and all those huge tumors covering the inside of his body had magically disappeared. That never happened. During this experience, I learned how valuable it is to be someone’s voice if they don’t have one, to be an advocate for someone who needs help, and to never give up even when there are so many hurdles in the way.

I have never been a person who handles conflict well or does well delivering tough conversations. Little did I know at this point, this was not the hardest conversation I would have with either Andrew or the kids. Many more tough, real, and honest conversations were yet to be had. This was near the beginning of Andrew’s cancer journey and the nurse was right. He made it less than four months. Three months and three days later, Andrew took his last breath and died. He fought such a hard, unimaginable fight and continued to be brave and fearless every step of the way.

Cherish the time you have with those that you love because you never know when that person may not be sitting next to you anymore. It is so easy to take one another for granted, and I know this because we did it for years. There were so many times we did not fully appreciate each other which turned into fights or arguments and the both of us giving each other the silent treatment for a day or two. I would go back in a heartbeat to have one more fight together, one more day of being frustrated because he did not pick up his dirty socks, because that would mean he would still be here today. I can wish for this as much as I want, yet I will never have that opportunity again and those days of us being together will never come again. I never thought this would be me, or us, going through this nightmare, but it is. Remember to tell those you love and are close to just how much you appreciate the things they do for you, even if they remembered to pick up their shoes by the front door or they stopped at the grocery store to buy a gallon of milk. Tomorrow is not a guarantee for any of us, so make the days you do have with those you love memorable.