It's Not Fun to Eat Cherries with Me

You don't realize the shadow that hair casts on your body...until it's gone. Not just after you shave, I mean, like all gone - no peach fuzz, no small dots where the next hairs will come through, nada. Eddie not only lost the hair on his head but, after some weeks, also the hair from his face, arms, and armpits. Eventually, his eyebrows and eyelashes fell out too. For months his razor and shaving cream went unused. The only hair that put up a good fight to stay intact was the hair on his legs...and even that fell out sporadically near the end. Any other hair you're thinking of...yea, gone too. Eddie used to laugh and say that there was one perk about being hairless from chemo...no dingleberries. (Not sure what a dingleberry is? Google it.) Hey people, this blog is real. Get used to it!

During my first visit, I was with Eddie everyday for months. The big change of shaving his head was obvious to me but the subtle, day-to-day changes went unnoticed. It wasn't until we would go out in public when I would realize he was different. To me, he was my Eddie but to others he looked strange.

The reactions/comments of others.

The Germans...oh, the Germans and their staring. I like to think in America we are a tad bit more tasteful when it comes to staring. Something might shock me back home, I take a quick glance, turn away and try to process what I just saw while doing something else/looking in another direction. I don't know, maybe that's just me. I felt like every time Eddie and I went somewhere together the Germans would stare at him like he had three heads.

For weeks my initial reaction was defensive and aggressive. 
"Oh, you wanna stare? I can stare too, lady! Here! How do you like it?!?"
I would make my eyes big too and lean in their direction until I won the staring contest (and believe me, I'm undefeated in that category). 
"Oh no you don't, old man! You're not safe either. He'll get his hair back! What about you?! How long have you been suffering from male pattern baldness?"
Back off, people! Ya'll don't know about this Youngstown blood I have pumpin' through these veins. I can and will cut you! (No, seriously, my dad gave me a switchblade when I was in college and I carry that thing around in my purse. Please give me a reason to use it. Please...)

I needed a T-Shirt that warned people.

As the Germans say: "Mit mir ist nicht gut Kirschen essen."

Literal translation: "It's not fun to eat cherries with me."

Actual meaning: Don't mess with me.

Eventually, I became a little more at peace with it all. I no longer walked into a public place ready for a fight. Before, I felt like Eddie's personal "pit bull" just waiting to go at someone, anyone, that would giggle, point, whisper, or stare. Instead, I walked in holding his arm with poise. I held my head high because I was PROUD to be with him. 
"Yes, hello everyone. How do you do? Yes, this is my man. He has no hair, no eyelashes and no eyebrows and to you it looks weird but to me it symbolizes the strongest person in this room."
From then on I considered their stares to be stares of wonder, awe, and amazement. I told myself that they're only staring because they find him just as magical as I do.

Occasionally, I would still find myself on the defense. During a small argument, a family member once told Eddie "Yea, well, it must be nice to sit around and chill all day!"
...

...

...

You know in cartoons, how you see the cartoon character turn red starting at their feet and then it rises all the way up into their face until steam comes out their ears? Yea, that's what happened to me when I heard those words. The claws in my fingernails sprang out automatically with a **ttzziiing** and I had to use all my might to push them back in. The comment hurt Eddie. I saw it in his face and I sensed it in the conversation I had with him later about it. Later, I settled for a more adult approach by asking this person to apologize. To this day, I don't think they ever did. 

At a street festival and old friend came up to Eddie and after a quick greeting, asked him if he was taking steroids. He had gained weight and to an untrained eye it might look like muscle mass. I giggled to myself because although he might not be shooting up the street version of "Roids" into his butt cheeks, Eddie was, in fact, on steroids ...prednisone to be exact.

During those days people had no idea they were dealing with a loose cannon. I have my father's Italian temper and my mother's sharp-as-a-knife tongue. Eddie has the muscle in this relationship but trust me when I tell you that you need to fear the little brunette on his side more than anyone. Don't mess with Eddie in any sense of the word because:

I. Will. Hurt. You.

Eddie's physical transformation.
 (Feb.-Dec. 2010)

(Days before treatment started)

(First day of chemo...making me laugh and pretending to be a vampire by sucking blood through his IV)

(Looking angelic. He wasn't lucky enough to get "his chair" that day.)

(Easter 2010)

(This kid never Tapped Out. "An apple a day...)

(...keeps the doctor away"...psht, yea right! Reppin' OSU!)

(Ready.)

(On Ed's 22nd Birthday.)

(A short time later, Danny, the guy in the white T-shirt, was also diagnosed with cancer.)

(75% of the people in this picture are cancer survivors.)

(Oh, that amazing dog right there? Yea, he had cancer too...and died last year at the age of 3 1/2.)

(They were each other's best buddies while the other was going through chemo.)

(We spent many hours in this hallway sitting and waiting for results/appointments. The mere sight of it nauseates me.)

(More pokes.)

(Summer 2010)

(JF Photography)

 (Oh, you just completed chemo? Good job! Here's a root canal...gansta!)

(Starting to get some eyebrows back and some hatchling fuzz.)

I had to get used to Eddie losing his hair and shortly thereafter "Bald Eddie" but for months Bald Eddie was all I knew. It was weird when Eddie started to get his hair back. It was strange because I had to actually get used to him again with hair! And when it did come back in...it was almost black! Talk about uncanny...

(Christmas 2010)

I fast forwarded a bit so I'm going to need to back it up a sec to get back on track.

During my first visit the days, weeks, and months passed. Even though I was going through one of the hardest times of my life, the world was still spinning, and time was passing as it always did...and always will. It was planned for Eddie to receive 4 cycles (3 weeks per cycle) of BEACOPP chemotherapy treatment.

Bleomycin

Etoposid (Vepesid)

Adriblastin (Doxorubicin) - made his pee red.

Cyclophophamid (Endoxan)

Oncovin (Vincristin)

Prednisone

Procarbazin (Natulan)

During treatment for testicular cancer, Lance Armstrong refused the first chemo medicine listed (Bleomycin) because it is toxic to the lungs. Since Eddie was treated with this drug, it is recommended that he refrain from going SCUBA diving. The higher underwater pressure and O2 tanks can be dangerous for his lungs. We didn't have any plans of going SCUBA diving in the near future but it made me angry that, once again, this cancer crap had crept its grimy little tentacles into our future. Maybe on our honey moon it would have been cool to take a class and try it? Nope. Scratch that off the list. If I never knew this fact and we never went SCUBA diving in our whole married life, I'd be no different. But the fact that I know we can't irritates me. It's hard to explain but it's like it makes me sad just to be limited. Eddie now has to be careful anytime he receives higher concentration oxygen. Whenever he goes in for surgeries, we have to remind the docs that he received this drug. Smoking and his lungs are a big no-no. He's at a higher risk for lung disease after this drug...but I'd gladly take all these risks over the cancer staying in his body.

Throughout his treatment he also took meds by mouth including Natulan (cytostatic/anticancer), Prednisone (steroid), Navoban (antiemetic), Uromitexan (bladder protector), Neulasta subq (WBC builder), Diflucan (prevents thrush), Bactrim, and Tavanic (prophylactics against infections?). He also had anti diarrhea/anti constipation meds and a mouth wash to help against mouth sores. I bought him an extra soft toothbrush to protect his gums...but that toothbrush remains in the package under the sink to this day. I'd tell you he didn't floss during treatment because he wasn't allowed but...he didn't do that before or after either so...no harm no foul. ;)

Finally, at the end of the 4 cycles Eddie had PET scan and...

::drum roll:: 

...the results showed the treatment was working!

(Right after the docs came in and told us the tumors were no longer active)

A few days later it was time for me to leave. I was always a mess when I had to leave Eddie at the airport but this time it just felt wrong. My medical leave of absence was up and I had to go back to work. I remember standing near the passport control area in the Zürich airport and looking up at the clock. I was calculating how long it would take to get to my gate trying to maximize my time with him. I kept thinking to myself:

"Ok, I have 19 more minutes before I have to walk away."

..."11 more minutes with him." 

..."4 more minutes to hug and kiss him." 

..."60 seconds left to look into his eyes."

And then that was it, time was up! I had to walk away from him. It physically hurt me to peel myself from his arms. Walking away from him in the airport is an ache that I don't think I could ever describe. Just trying to type out the scene hurts my heart and brings tears to my eyes. The further I walked away from him the more the pain grew. I tried to keep my eyes on him as long as I could until I inevitably had to turn a corner. I took one last mental picture of the way he looked, said "I Love You" in sign language...and then he was gone. I remember thinking "Oh God. I can't see him anymore, I can't feel him anymore!" and I could feel the hyperventilating/panic starting. Here comes the roller coaster! I ignored the customs officer's comments "Aw, don't be sad. You'll be back soon." ::looks at passport:: "Oh, America, huh? Hm. Ok maybe not so soon." ::stamp!::

As I walked to my gate my crying...no, sobbing...no, WALIING continued and I could feel the people staring at me as I walked. Ugh, the European stares! I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry until I passed out. I could barely navigate through my blurry, stinging eyes.

Perfume saleswoman - "Don't cry, miss!"

Mmm hm, yea, right. I cried harder. At this point, I am crying so hard that I start to gag. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am gagging in the middle of the Zürich airport heading to gates E. I am an emotional wreck! The funny part was, I didn't care if I vomited all over the floor. "Good, maybe I'll get so sick I have to stay here and he has to come back and pick me up!" My thoughts were racing and my head was spinning. "God, please give me the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other as I leave him."

A stranger in a business suit gives me a hug. I'm momentarily stunned but I don't stop crying. To the random man in the airport, sorry about that snot rocket I left on your suit jacket but you took that risk hugging a bawling American woman.

On the plane, I am conveniently sat behind two love birds. Each time they leaned over to smooch each other I felt the stomach acid rise into my esophagus. How can people be so happy right now when I hurt so bad? It's not fair! My skin is crawling as I sit in my sardine can airplane seat and I just want to be traquilized. 

Each time the stewardess came around to offer me something to drink or the "chicken or pasta" in-flight meal I thought for sure I was going smack her. "Lady, my lips are swollen and my eyelids are puffed up like golf balls. Do I look like I want a tomato juice right now?!? The only thing I want to do was slip through that emergency exit right there and parachute back down to my fiance."

Little did I know that, do to unforeseen circumstances, I would soon be on my way back to see him in just some weeks...

America vs. Germany

131.   In America, traffic lights go from red to green. In Germany, they go from red, briefly to yellow, and then to green. I’m assuming it is because there are more manual cars over here and they need that split second warning to release the clutch?

132.   Vacuum cleaners in Germany aren't like our push ones, but rather the stationary base with the sturdy hose attachment that you run flat along the floors. Ed likes American ones better. I hate cleaning no matter which country I'm in...so whatevs.

133.   Eddie is Russian too. I learned that the way to say hello is somewhat pronounced like “Stravstvotsti.” You’re only supposed to greet someone with this once. If you see that person later on and say it again, they’ll think it’s strange. ... but I think they're the strange ones!

134.   German law requires you to have a first aid kit in your car and apparently first aid kits expire! Who knew?!! When you go to get a yearly control for your car here they ask to see it and the expiration date...weirdos!

135.   I would never want to be a lifeguard in Germany. I once went to a public pool on a busy, summer day and it was complete mayhem. There were no breaks…you know…where the lifeguard blows the whistle and everyone gets out for a little so they can take a break. Nope, someone could be marinating at the bottom of the pool and no one would know for hours. My kids are never leaving my side there. That situation would be a law suit waiting to happen in the States. 

136.   The 1 euro cent coin is the cutest coin I've ever seen. In Switzerland, the smallest coin is 5 cents. It's common to over pump at the gas station by 2 cents because you know you won’t have to pay it.


137.   I once met someone at a soccer game who was from New Jersey. When I told him I was from Ohio he said loudly “Whoa, Ohio…farm land, that’s in the middle of no where!” Irritated, I reminded him that his state was two states away from mine and frequently referred to as “The Armpit of America” … too harsh? :/

138.   Cinderella’s Castle in Disney is modeled after a REAL castle in Germany. See here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Neuschwanstein_Castle_Cropped_frm_PC.jpg

139.   German weddings are a lot different. A lot of times the bride doesn’t wear white/ivory. 

140.   Instead of the traditional American Sweet 16, Germans celebrate the 18th birthday with the most pizzazz.

Not On My Watch

An average day.

It was weird to consider a day a good day no longer based on the weather, if a certain sports team had won, or by the activities I did on that day. A good day then was a day with no vomiting, no blood transfusions, no fevers, good blood counts, the nurses getting the IV on the first attempt (he didn't want a port), and the ability to eat a good meal all capped off by a good night's rest. For months, that's all I wanted in a day.

For the most part, the days of chemotherapy were pretty chill. We got into our routine and felt comfortable there. We'd park the car (in a parking garage that charged a ridiculous amount of money per hour - no discount for chemo patients - thanks Switzerland) and walked down a long underground tunnel to the front of the hospital.

(The tunnel that I could probably navigate blind-folded)

Once we rode the elevator up to the ground floor, we were greeted by a large cloud of thick cigarette smoke. Just outside the elevators and right in front of the hospital entrance conveniently stood the nurses, doctors, and hospital workers on their smoke breaks.

...The simple recollection of this vision causes me the need to take a small break from typing to simmer down...

Do you realize the amount of strength it took me not to walk up to them, take the damn cigarette out of their hand and put the butt out on their cornea? First of all, aren't you people aware of how unprofessional it looks with you standing there in your uniforms puffin' away. What now? You're just going to waltz back in there wreaking of smoke and tell your patients how they need to quit smoking? What a joke you all are. There were many days where I thought for sure I was going to just walk up to them, smack them in the face, give them a solid 5 second stare-down...and simply walk off. Them smoking right there is a smack in the face to me...and to every patient entering the facility. How DARE they stand there and blow smoke in my Eddie's face as he makes the long trek to go get chemotherapy. For hours he will get poison pumped into his veins to cure the very thing that you are willingly/knowingly putting yourselves at risk for! Eddie didn't ask for this! He did nothing to get it! Needless to say, day after day, I successfully made it through that gauntlet without committing and bodily harm to any unfortunate Swiss hospital worker. Instead, I settled for yelling "Smoke it up, clowns!" as we passed. I took small comfort in thinking at least some of them had to understand English.

::walk through entrance, around escalator, pass emergency room, pass courtyard, push button for elevator, greet people in the elevator with a Swiss greeting, push number 8, say "Ade" to the Swiss people in the elevator, exit elevator::

Aww, our second home...the oncology floor of Unispital Basel! Next, Eddie would take a seat and wait to give a blood sample. I would pray to God that the results would come back ok. 

If his red counts were too low, he would have to get a blood transfusion and, for some reason, that would have been a big deal to me. I give blood transfusions all the time at work but the thought of my Eddie getting one was strange. Similarly, if his white counts were too low, they wouldn't do the chemo treatment that day. His cycle would be postponed until he built up more cells. Again, it might not have been a huge deal but I didn't want anything to break our routine. One more wrench in my daily plans might cause another breakdown and those have proven to be no fun. Plus, we had the end of his chemo treatment marked on a calendar hanging on our bedroom wall. It would be upsetting if we had to push it back some weeks. Not to mention the fact that for weeks I was giving Eddie a shot in his thigh called Neulasta. It's supposed to boost the white blood cell count and if his counts came back low I would worry that I wasn't doing it right. (After a few times Eddie told me it hurt him more when I gave him the shots ;) so he started to give them himself.) If my memory serves me correctly, Neulasta injections cost over $3,000...per shot! Per shot, people!

I also didn't want his white counts to be too high either. I did everything in my power to protect that man from infection at home. I'd feel like I failed him if he got sick. He did no cleaning at home and I wouldn't even let him look at the cat's litter box. He ate nothing raw (eggs, meat, etc.) and I washed all his food really well...heck, I washed everything really well. I forbid him from eating at Subway. We probably had 20+ bottles of hand sanitizer around the house and I carried one with me where ever we went. I insisted he use it. I also had antibacterial wipes with me that I would use to wipe down the arms of his movie seat or anything in his immediate surroundings. I annoyed him and I know it but he wasn't getting sick...not again, not on my watch! I wasn't going to miss anything this time. I wasn't going to mess this up too.

Here is a random shot of me cleaning out my purse. His sister took this picture while we waited for Eddie to get an X-Ray or was it an MRI that day? Or maybe a CT scan...I forget.

(Some must haves while your man is going through cancer treatment: Hand sanitizer, disinfecting wipes, diarrhea medicine, prescriptions, bandaids, tissues...chocolate from home)

After his blood work came back borderline ok we would then move into another room. Here they would already have all the bags, tubes, and pills waiting for him by "his chair." (Unfortunately, I never took a picture of the amount of pills he had to take in a day. Some days it was 20 at a time.) I would pray to God that they could get his IV with just one poke.

(Looks like that day it took two pokes but he's jay chillin')

Throughout his treatment, Eddie would tease the nurses and even tried teasing me by saying he was leaving me for one of the student nurses. Her name was Carmen...and I kept a close eye on that one. ;) Eventually Carmen's rotation ended and his favorite nurse was the head nurse, Heidi. I liked Heidi...until the day she started Eddie's IV without gloves and I almost fell off my windowsill. From then on I kept a good eye on her from my perch too. I wasn't there to step on anyone's toes but I'll be damned if someone exposes him to added risks! Again, not on my watch...

As the infusions dripped into Eddie's veins he would play on his iPhone, munch on fruit, joke around and make me giggle. There was one time that mid-laugh I caught a glimpse of the patient in the next bed and my laughter immediately ceased. I realized that my laughter didn't fit in this room. These walls were used to the sounds of sobs, of cries of pain, of bad news, of thick coughs, of ragged breaths. My laughter was out of place and I felt a chill in the air. The woman next to me was silently weeping over her husband as he slept in the bed and my heart sank for being so insensitive. Even though things are going somewhat smoothly for Eddie, that wasn't the case for everyone else. Even though Eddie's bald head made us part of the group, I felt like I didn't belong there with my good spirits. I thought to myself the amount of tears shed in this room could probably fill a lake.

There was only a small curtain that separated the patients from one another and I often had to scold Eddie for staring or for listening in on other people's conversations. (HIPAA what?) I didn't listen in because I couldn't understand them anyway but I tried to turn away when people were getting their ports accessed or if I noticed I was looking too hard at someone's scar/bandage. With Eddie, I would make my eyes big and occasionally, if he was staring too intently, I had to pinch him. We saw so many different types of patients coming and going. My heart would ache for them and their support givers. You'd have the ones that were frail, gray, and all bones or the ones that were swollen, bald, and all shiny. There were the women in scarves or the woman whose wig would stay in the same position even though her head had turned in her sleep. The old man who snored so loudly but you couldn't help but smile because he wasn't in pain and he was getting some rest. In these moments I'd send up a small prayer thanking God for letting things go the way that they were going for Eddie. His case wasn't so bad. We were lucky. I was thankful.

Eddie was the youngest one there. The next man closest to his age was in his early 30's and they befriended each other. His name began with a "B" and was a weird European name so I don't remember it. This man's girlfriend would occasionally come with him and we would exchange polite smiles (with the language barrier that's all I could offer). "B" and Eddie would take turns harassing the nurses and it would make everyone smile. Some weeks later we met up with "B" at one of his check-ups and he said his cancer wasn't reacting that well and he had to do more treatment. You can tell he was bummed and not his usual cheerful self. Eddie asked about his girlfriend and he told Eddie that they had broken up. She told "B" that the cancer had changed him and she couldn't be with him any longer...

(?!?!)

A lot of people tell me that I was really strong during those days (thanks, but I wasn't). They tell me that I was a good woman for going and being by his side but in my head there was no other option. Not once did I think that I couldn't do it or that I wouldn't do it. I never thought to myself "nope, this is too much for me, he needs to go through it without me." It was never an option for me not to be with him or not to be by his side. There was only this one way and we had to get through it together. I'm no superwoman. What I did deserves no medal. Think about it yourself, if it was your man (or your woman) you would do it too. Wouldn't you? It wasn't until I heard the story about this man and his girlfriend that I realized there are people like that. This cancer stuff is serious and exhausting. There are some people that do skedaddle...but for me, I never gave it a second thought. When I try to think about not being with him I have a hard time imagining it. Just the idea feels awkward and I just push it from thought.

How did I do it? Again, it sounds cliché but I got through it with my family, friends, and faith. The support I got from home was unbelievable. 

We got care packages:

We got cards:

(Note: ONE of these cards is from a German...the rest of from my Americans)

And we got prayers...lots of prayers.

During the months Eddie was sick I learned a lot about myself, about Eddie...and it might be a little too deep, but I learned a lot about life in general too. I always knew how strong Eddie was on the outside but through this difficult time I realized just how strong he was on the inside...and just how strong I can be with him by my side. He battled his sickness with such dignity and courage like I have never seen before. I cherish every day with that man and vow to never take him, our love together, or our health for granted!

(to be cont.)

America vs. Germany

121.   Just in case any of you want to come and visit me in Germany, it's actually better to fly into Zürich, Switzerland. It’s closer (1 hour) to our house than Frankfurt (3 hours).

122.   It is incredibly difficult to find ranch dressing in Germany. I only know one store where I can get cheddar cheese. If I want peanut butter I have to look in the "American Section" of the grocery store where they have a small jars...all major set backs for me.

123.   You don't have to pay a toll to drive on the highway like you do back home but you do have to buy a "Vignette" to drive on the Swiss highway each year. It's 40 Francs right now but the price is supposed to rise in the upcoming years. It's a sticker that you put on your windshield and it's valid until the next calendar year.

124.   There was (is still?) a German version of Facebook called "Schuelervz" and "Studivz" but then I think the Germans realized how lame that was and finally got the real Facebook.

125.   We live about 10 mins from France and 10 mins from Switzerland. I once road on the back of his scooter to both countries...I felt like I was in a Mary Kate and Ashley Olson movie...

126.   My children will speak English, German, Russian, and when Eddie isn't home, I'll teach them Spanish....aw nah, who am I kidding, I'll be happy if those little stinkers aren't still pooping in their pants at age 6. Gotta keep my expectations low these days.

127.   They have German rappers and it's pretty funny. I remember the first time I heard it, I couldn't take them seriously. It sounds so...off?

128.   East and West Germany claim that the other has an accent.

129.   The last time Eddie tried to teach me to drive stick shift, it ended with me in the back seat in tears. You can imagine the scene…

130.   I once broke down and cried in the middle of a busy festival in Switzerland. Ed put me in front of a crowded food stand and asked me “So, come on, what do you want?” People were surrounding me and I had no idea what any of the mystery meats were! Würst? Wieners? Which type of bread do I choose? I was too stressed/pressured so I just started to cry. This scene ended with us stepping out of line and Eddie trying to comfort me in the middle of a court yard. Sometimes I feel bad thinking his life would be so much easier (boring?) if he had married a German girl...

Crying in Closets

Ok, so where was I? Aw yes, I just boarded a transatlantic flight to be with my fiance as he battled cancer. By the time I reached Germany, his cancer had an official name - stage 3a Hodgkin's lymphoma - and was considered advanced stage. For those of you blessed enough to have no idea what the stages mean, the 3 means that it was in multiple lymph node chains and spread below his diaphragm into his abdomen. The "a" means he wasn't showing the typical signs of cancer - night sweats, fevers, weight loss, etc. Although, I'm not totally convinced about the no weight loss. When I look back at pictures he was very skinny at the time. For those of you that know Eddie, I think you'll agree -

(December 2009 BC)

I like to separate the years of our relationship into two categories - before cancer (BC), and after cancer (AC).

The first day of chemo.

I left for Germany on a Sunday, arrived on a Monday, and he had his first chemotherapy treatment that Tuesday.

(All smiles on his first day of chemo)

Note: So skinny with toothpick legs! I think he looks like a white Barack Obama here. :)

He would refer to that chair as "My Chair" for the next months. If we arrived in the morning and it was already occupied, he would get a little disheartened. There were a few times he waited for it to be free and then he would switch to it. I remember he would impatiently eye the other patient's infusions trying to calculate when the chair would be free. This chair was close to a large window that overlooked the city of Basel, Switzerland. I preferred this spot too because the windowsill was more comfortable to sit on than the small stools with wheels. And for some reason it made me feel better to see him sitting up in a chair rather than lying down in a hospital bed like a typical sick patient.

After his first treatment he drove home and things were pretty uneventful...for about 2 hours. I was jet lagged and had just closed my eyes on the couch when I was awoken by Eddie jumping up and running to the bathroom. I heard the telltale sounds of gagging and heaving...and then I heard more gagging and heaving...and then more gagging and heaving. There was a small pause and I felt my shoulders relax until, you guessed it, there was more gagging and heaving echoing off the bathroom walls and down the hall. His mother came over and tried to make him some tea with lemon. He was able to drink it...but then it came back up minutes later. I remember feeling like a deer in headlights. "What do I do? Think, Rachel, think! You're a nurse!" He had gotten antiemtics in the hospital...when can he take another one again? I couldn't think of a solution. I was at a loss.

After some tense moments, I suggested we go for a small walk and get some fresh air. It was the same walk we usually took our dog on to do his business and was probably only about 300 meters. Yea, well, we made it about 30 meters...and it started again. Another wave hit him and he couldn't walk any further. I sat down on a log and waited for him to be done. I just watched as Eddie doubled over and wrenched right next to the log. I don't even think I patted his back or anything. I just stared at him, half in a trance, and prayed to God that it would pass soon. I just wanted him to have some relief. I knew this was a symptom of chemotherapy but wow, so soon? I didn't realize. I didn't expect to be dealing with this on day one, hour two! Our walk came to an abrupt end and we went back inside where he laid on the couch. This continued about 10 more times until he was able to pass out. Next chemotherapy appointment...tomorrow morning!

The days after that went a little smoother. They switched his antiemetic to something stronger and we figured out a good regime for his meds. His doctor also prescribed him Ativan. After chemo, we came home, had lunch, and he followed that with the sweet dessert of Lorazepam. With the help of this med, he was able to sleep through the hours of nausea. I, on the other hand, waited on pins and needles outside the bedroom door. My ears strained to hear the slightest bit of discomfort coming from inside the room. I was so thankful every time an hour passed without him throwing up and each hour he got of solid rest. Sadly, the doctors don't prescribe benzodiazepines to the support givers. In hindsight, there were many-a-day I should have stolen one, crushed that baby up, and snorted it through the nearest 5 Euro bill I could find (there is no 1 Euro bill) just so I could get a good night's sleep.

I know when I say "We took one day at a time" it sounds very cliché but we did. We had to. Each day brought new symptoms. Our movie dates were replaced with pharmacy trips. One day he would have diarrhea, the next he would be constipated. (Too much info? Perhaps. But this was the reality). For months, the man didn't have a normal pattern...but I never heard him complain. That alone would make me cry but he never made a peep. His strength gave me strength.

The day his hair fell out.

It was around Easter time 2010. One day, Eddie noticed that if he pinched a small amount of hair on his head and tugged, it would easily slip out. He took sickening joy in doing this just to creep me out. He would call me name, show me the hair between his fingertips, smile, and wait for me to scream in horror. Even though he was sick, his sense of humor and thrill to tease me never left. I'd laugh, smack his hand and tell him to stop...but when I'd look at the top of his head, there would be a small empty patch where the hair used to be...and my stomach would lurch.

The morning after that day was a Saturday. We could sleep in because there is no chemo on the weekends...yay! However, I woke up with a start when I noticed Eddie was already out of bed. He was standing near his side of the bed looking down with big eyes. He said "Hey Mitz..." and pointed next to my head. When I rolled over, I saw that his pillow was completely full of hair...light brown/dark blonde hair, his hair, my Eddie's hair. My heart skipped a full PQRST beat and it took a minute to register what was happening. Eddie's head had sporadic patches of hair and bald patches...and then I got it. I remember thinking to myself "Well, this is it. This is the day you've been waiting for, Rach." I like to think that the shock and the pain wasn't visible on my face. I told him not to worry about it, it's not a big deal, and that I'll clean it up. I told him to just go ahead and brush his teeth and start making breakfast.

I got out of bed and walked down the hall to get the vacuum cleaner from the boiler room. About halfway there I ran into an invisible wall of...hell. The reality of what I was about to do hit me like a truck. I remember exactly where I was in the hallway when I felt it start. I started thinking "My God, I'm fetching the vacuum to sweep up my fiancé's hair..." I could best describe this moment in comparison to a roller coaster ride. You know the moment you sit in the cart, you're all buckled in, and you see the hill in front of you? It starts out slow as you approach the hill and then it picks up speed. That's what it felt like with the butterflies in my stomach...only, it wasn't a fun roller coaster. This roller coaster feels like I'm scared to death and I have no control. It creeps in slow, escalates fast, and I knew in my head there was nothing I could do to stop it, I just had to ride it out...so I did.

I started to hyperventilate as I walked and just made it to the boiler room. I was relieved to make it there and closed the door behind me where I could cry in private. I started feeling weak so I braced myself on the wall until I was sure I wasn't going to pass out. I leaned with my back against the wall and sobbed until my respiratory rate came back down into the double digits. Is that what a panic attack feels like? Was that a panic attack? I never felt one in my entire life so I have no idea but that was the second time I felt that way in just 2 weeks. To this day, I don't know what to call those waves...so I just explain them to my mom as my roller coaster moments. I cooled off my cheeks with my poorly perfused hands, dried my tears, wiped my snot on my sleeve, and carried the vacuum cleaner with every ounce of strength I had left. My courage rose the further I walked down the hall. I felt like I was going to war. 

When I reached the bedroom I was pleased to see that Eddie was no longer there or in the attached bathroom. He was already in the kitchen far enough from ear range. I plugged in the vacuum and was even more pleased to realize that it was loud enough to drown out my sniffles. I just kept chanting in my head -

"I'm sweeping up my fiance's hair and it's ok."

"I'm sweeping up my fiance's hair and it's ok."

"I'm sweeping up my fiance's hair and it's ok."

I don't know if I ever told many people about that story...especially not Ed. He likes to read my blog too so now he knows. He now knows why it took me 10 minutes to find the vacuum that day too.

After breakfast we decided to take matters into our own hands and shave his head. It felt good to take back a little control. Strangely, it made me feel a little better knowing that it didn't all fall out on its own, we shaved some off too.

I didn't realize it then but I wouldn't see him with a full head of hair again until the seasons changed from winter to spring, to summer, to fall, and then back to winter again.

To all my friends and family that supported me and praised me for being so strong during those days...the harsh reality of it is - I wasn't. I would lose it on the phone with many of you and cried in closets. After a quick breakdown I would come out like Emma Thompson's character in "Love Actually" as if my world wasn't crumbling around me...

(to be cont.)

America vs. Germany

111.   You're only allowed to carry 10,000 Francs per person across the border between Germany and Switzerland. It's really annoying to have to empty out our wallets and go out with just the bare minimum. ;)

112.   Turkish food in Germany is as popular as Mexican food is in the States. A “döner” is similar to a gyro…and delicious!

113.   If traffic brakes suddenly on the highway, German drivers put on their hazard lights to alert the cars behind them. I found that to be pretty considerate.

114.   In Germany, the requirements for their Nutritional Information on food products are rather lax. I remember trying to prove a point that Red Bull has a ridiculous amount of sugar in it and when I turned the can around, sugar had been conveniently left off the panel!

115.   You’re not allowed to talk on your phone and drive in Germany/Switzerland. Is that an official law in Ohio yet?

116.  In order to pull something (trailer, camper, etc) in Germany, the driver must have a special license. Heck, in America, a 16 year old could pull a 20 ft. boat or anything else for that matter. They also put on extension to their side rear-view mirrors to be able to see behind what they're pulling. They're pretty serious about that stuff.

117.   Germans answer the phone with "Ja" and then their last name. It's a little rude to say just "Hello?"...but I do it anyway because anyone calling me should know I'm American and that's how I roll.

118.   Women have the right to take 3 years off for maternity leave and keep their position...3 months (US) vs. 3 years. 3 months vs. 3 years, interesting...very interesting…

119.   Germans don’t travel in what I would consider comfortable clothes. The first time I came to Germany, Eddie’s mom told him that I was wearing my “pajamas”…great…

120.   Girls don’t wear shorts as much as they do in the States.

The Day I Found Out

Many people tell me that I should write a book about my life. I'm sure they're just referring to the past decade because the earlier years were pretty status quo. I assume they mean my relationship with Eddie and our experiences and not what it was like growing up on the rough-'n'-tough streets of Applewood Acres in Boardman, Ohio. ;) I don't know if I'll ever write a book (I have a hard enough time committing to this blog or scheduling a nap into my day...not to mention the fact that my thoughts are way too scattered) but it's nice to share sometimes. This blog will have to suffice for now so soak it all up while you get the story for free!

When it comes to all this cancer shizz I say it easily and matter-of-factly - 

"My husband had cancer." 

Saying the sentence doesn't really bother me but if I actually take the time to sit down and think about the details of it all, I wasn't always so nonchalant. As time passes I forget some of the feelings that I felt on those days. I suppose that's a good thing. That's the way it is intended and it means we're healing the healthy way. I don't want our struggles to define us but people ask about them all the time. I'll go down that road again if that's what people want to read about. There are a few details of that journey that I remember distinctly. I might have to break them apart into separate blogs but here it goes...

The day I found out.

::inhale::

::long exhale::

I was in my bedroom in my apartment in Westerville, Ohio. It was a February Wednesday and it must have been in the early morning judging by the way the light is coming through the window (in my mental image). I remember exactly where I was standing in my room, which direction I was facing, and which bedside lamp was turned on when my phone rang. My best friend, +Samantha Siman, was visiting me for some days and was sitting at the computer in my bedroom at the time. The number that came up on my phone was about 20 digits long so I knew it was Eddie calling but from which number, I did not know. After a quick greeting, Eddie said -

"Hey Mitz, (my nickname) it's cancer..." 

He was calling from a hospital in Switzerland and said that they were prepping him for surgery...

For days he had been going through testing and doctors were throwing around percentages that I didn't even want to consider. I didn't want to crowd my swirling brain with numbers and statistics. I mean, why should I? All this cancer talk was ludicrous! Eddie was the fittest guy I knew. I'm not saying that just because he's mine; he literally was the epitome of health as a non-smoker, non-drinker, healthy-eater, two-time 1st place German Wrestling Champion, and 3rd place European Champion.

 (Come on now, does that look like cancer to you?)

Well, it turns out, cancer knows no limits to age, race, or gender and my world was about to be turned upside-down. What had only been a persistent cough and sensitive skin (that I had assumed was just because he was a pale German) was accompanied by tumors throughout his neck, chest, back, and abdomen.

The guilt I felt (feel?) for not catching-on to any signs and symptoms is astronomical. I had just seen him in January and didn't pick up on it! As a nurse, how could I have missed it? I studied this crap in school and read about it in textbooks. I cared for patients with cancer. How in the heck did I miss it!?!

The anger I feel towards his primary physician for pushing away his concerns and complaints for weeks continues to this day...to this day! Every time I drive by his doctor's house/office (Yes, they are one-in-the-same. Life Lesson #333,878,545 - Do not visit a doctor whose primary office is run from the basement of his family home and 30 + minutes from the nearest hospital/blood work processing lab.) I am tempted to stop and take a big shadooby on the hood of his stupid European car. Since that can be hard to coordinate, I settle with some hand gestures. Inappropriate, yes. But does it make me feel a little better? ::snicker:: Also a yes.

During our phone conversation I had drifted into my living room. As the conversation progressed, I had to step back until the back of my knees felt the edge of my couch because I could tell they weren't strong enough to support me much longer. I was hoping I misunderstood his accented English but unfortunately, I heard him correctly. In some hours he would be going into surgery where they would go through the left side of his chest, through his lung, and remove a piece of the largest mass on his aorta. While he was still under anesthesia, they would take a bone marrow sample so they could officially stage the cancer...

And that was it. There wasn't really anything more I could say. There wasn't anything more I could do. 

Powerless

Speechless

Flabbergasted

Blindsided

Dumbfounded

Blown away

Words could never capture it.

At the end of the hardest conversation I've had with Eddie to-date, we wholeheartedly said "I love you" and then "Good-bye"... ::click::  ...  ::fold flip-phone closed:: 

Aaaaand...cue panic mode!

With the phone still in my hand I hazily looked up to see Sam standing in front of me. I think I said something along the lines of-

"Um...so, Eddie has cancer?" 

(And yes, it was in question form.)

I think she already knew something was wrong through the bits and pieces she caught from our phone conversation and the look on my face. Here is where the hours/days/weeks/months get foggy. I remember I started to hyperventilate. I remember pacing back and forth not knowing where to start. I was just shaking my hands and arms because my skin was absolutely crawling! Tears are streaming down my face as I ramble off all the things I have to do. At some point, I think Sam actually grabbed my shoulders, spun me around, and told me to sit at my computer. I had start filling out paperwork for medical leave off of work to fly and see him. I remember saying-

"No, I don't want to. I want to go to take a nap."

(?!?!) 

I don't think I was actually tired at the moment, I think my bed is just a comforting place for me and if I was asleep I wouldn't have to deal with it. If I start to act, then it means it is actually happening. I don't know, I wasn't making a lot of sense at the time and I knew it. Through blurry eyes I found the appropriate forms and started to fill them out.

Ok, so now what? Well, now I have to tell people. I wrote a very short and direct email to my nurse manager making it clear to her that I was going to be with him...no matter what. I still have the email and it's chilling how emotionless it is when, at the time I wrote it, I was a steaming, hot mess and I recall having a snot mustache as I typed it. (Attractive, I know.)

After that I took a deep breath and started with phone calls. When it came to family, I think I just called my sister. When it came to friends, I only got as far as my two best friends at work Jenn and Shanna. These people then spread the word from there because I was already running on fumes. From that point on, my waking moments were spent on the phone or sitting at a computer planning.

Occasionally, my mind would replay the phone conversation with Eddie. Did I really understand it correctly? Was there still a chance the tests were erroneous? As the conversation repeated, there was something else that stood out. After he told me it was cancer he asked-

"Does this make me a loser, now?" 

(?!?!)

I quickly and instinctively answered - "No! Of course not, don't be silly." The question didn't really sink in until later. You see, when dealing with a language barrier there can be a lot of reading between the lines...especially when someone says something that, at first, seems strange and out-of-place. There can be a certain degree of decoding until you find out what they mean and what exactly they were trying to say. The words replayed over and over in my head until it hit me...what he meant was-

 "Do you still find me attractive?" 

"Am I still a man to you?" 

Even if he had formed it this way, I wouldn't have hesitated for a millisecond. The fact that he even felt the need to question it breaks my heart over and over again.

The days after.

I hadn't talked to my mom for weeks but this little incident ended our quarrel. That Valentine's Day weekend (2 days later) my sister, Julie, and mother came down from Youngstown to Columbus...and let me tell you we got shit done! 
(By "we" I mostly mean they...and yes, mother, I said "shit." I tried using "shizz, crap and shadooby" in this post but a substitute just doesn't capture it here. I can hear it now "Rachel!!! I raised you better than that!" Yes, I know and I'm sorry...well, actually, no, not really. I'm 28 and I can say the "S-word.") 
If it weren't for these 3 women on those days I think I would have quivered on my bathroom floor next to the heating vent for hours/days.

My mom and Julie busted into my apartment like a S.W.A.T. team and started cleaning house (literally too)! We put all my utilities on hold. We forwarded all my mail to my sister's house. I gave them my checkbook with multiple signed checks to take care of any finances that may arise in the upcoming months (or to empty my bank account and go on a shopping spree, I really didn't care at the moment). I alerted my apartment manager about my absence and asked my friend Adrienne to keep and eye on the place for me. Any loose ends that weren't tied up yet were written on a list and I knew these women would take care of them for me. Once that was done...we went wedding dress shopping!

Oh, did I mention Eddie and I were to be wed in about 6 1/2 months? I didn't know how long I would be gone so we were worried that there would be no time to order a dress when I got back. After briefly explaining the story and the urgency of the matter, we were able to get some last minute appointments so off we went to all the bridal stores in the Columbus area in search of a dress! 

Yipee! :) ... :/ ... :( 

To say I wasn't in the mood would be a understatement. My mom and sister were the fire under my butt that I needed to function and get it done. 

(Nothin' like planning your future husband's cancer treatment while simultaneously shopping for your wedding dress!)

I'm sure the women in the bridal shop never met such a melancholy bride...

(The dress!)

I was the world's most deadbeat bride and I know it. I know it now and I knew it then but I just couldn't muster up the energy to be excited or to plan when everything was so up-in-the-air. For months I couldn't even watch the TLC show "Say Yes to the Dress." If I accidentally landed on it when channel surfing I would close my eyes and quickly change the channel. The show stressed me and angered me. The women on it were so focused on the dumbest crap. I'm fully aware that I was probably a bit bitter that my experience was so tainted. Needless to say, my mom, sister and I made the best of it and I am forever indebted to them.

The next week consisted of wrapping things up at work, packing, and more planning of Eddie's care. A lot of my down-time at work was spent faxing forms back and forth with his doctors. (Thank you to our secretary, Betsy, for helping me figure out how to fax internationally). When he told me he would be starting chemo the following Tuesday I bought my ticket right then on the phone. The two questions that popped into my head were: "Are you going to get a port?" and "When are you freezing your sperm?"

After filling out more paper work and putting Eddie on file officially labeling him as my life partner, my leave from work was approved! (If you are engaged, I recommend filing these papers now so that your fiance is officially recognized should anything of the sort come about.) I would be by Eddie's side for 3 months! It would be the longest amount of time we would spend at one time together and although I wished it were under better circumstances, I was excited to see him again. The support I received from my OSU friends/nurses was incredible. On my last day of work they gave me flowers and showered us with well-wishes. I am forever indebted to them.

(The day before I flew.)

On Sunday, February 21, I boarded a plane to fly to see my husband-to-be. Thanks to the help of my friends and family, I would be able to be with him on his first day of chemotherapy. I had no idea what I was getting myself into or what would be waiting for me when I stepped off the plane but I didn't even think twice about it...off I went!

(to be cont.)

America vs. Germany

101.   Don't expect to be greeted in clothing stores like how you are bombarded here. Ed thinks it's nice. I don't think he gets that it can also be a security measure in a shopping mall. Their "Hi! How are you doing?" is code for "I see you and we're watching."

102.   They eat peacocks, pigeons, and ostriches here. I've never tried any of them.

103.   When you go to the movies here, there is assigned seating. The row and seat number is printed on your ticket stub. This has pros and cons...

104.   Eddie really likes American chewing gum. They have Orbits gum too but it comes in the typical long thin pieces rather than the smaller, more compact pieces and cool case.
  
105.   They have H&M in Germany too. I think it originated here...it stands for Hennes & Mauritz (not exactly American names).

106.   Until recently, the firstborn son had to join the army in Germany.

107.   They have parking spots reserved for women. Not pregnant women, just women in general. At first you're tempted to have a feminist debate but then you're just like "Meh, what the heck, thanks a lot!"

108.   Eddie and his brother were born in Kazakhstan...yes, the country that the movie “Borat” makes fun of. His family moved to Germany when he was two.

109.   German television shows don’t start on the hour or half hour like they do in the States...but rather seemingly random times like 8:40, 10:20, or 20:15.

110.   Dogs are allowed in a lot more public places than they are in the US.