When David and I first got together, our lives changed forever. Neither of us had wanted a long-term relationship, having both been married more than once,before. But we met, fell in love and the rest, as they say, is history. He took me on, lock stock and barrel. I had a teenage daughter Lisa, a younger daughter Marie, 2 ponies, one dog, 3 cats and rabbits and guinea pigs. Didn’t seem to phase him in the least. He had never had animals, or children around him really, so my way of life was very different from how he had been living. A bachelor life, nights out, holidays abroad, more than twice a year and pleasing himself in whatever he wanted to do. My, how life changed for him.
Our life together soon became almost idyllic. Our love was stronger than anything we had felt before. David was a good ‘dad’ to both of my daughters and Marie very soon asked if she could call him Dad. Lisa was difficult, and made life hard at times until she left home but we always came together as a family. She married and gave us 2 beautiful grandsons and just before all of this, before the lies and heartache,adopted a baby girl, my grand-daughter. We shared everything and were a happy family. I had poor health at times and my husband took it all in his stride, never complaining, always taking care of me and our little family. Throughout most of our life together, humour played a great part. David could be very silly but also very clever with fun things and the girls and I loved every minute.We eventually moved to Wales with the MOD, David’s then employer and bought a small holding with a beautiful little cottage that we renovated. Seeing my handsome suited man, always spotless and smart, cleaning out stables, knee-deep in muck, was something to behold. Life for many years was wonderful. He had never been ill, one day off work in 40 years and was strong and healthy. Something we both were grateful for.
I have written on here about the family stuff, the bullying etc. so won’t repeat it, but for the past few years life has been very hard for us all. With David’s diagnosis, in 2016,came a whole new way of life. In the same way that my husband didn’t sign up for all the rubbish heaped on us by my eldest daughter, all the lies that caused so much trouble, I didn’t sign up for the worry, the fear and the ‘pain’ that came with PC.I also didn’t ever envisage caring for the man I love, in the same way a mother cares for her child. Some of the past few years felt that way. David was a very private man, there were things we never discussed, our close marriage did not include talking about sexual issues or the bedroom. That part of our life was spontaneous and without words. Healthy or not, it is how we were; down to me I guess. Nursing him, helping him with intimate issues, in the early days came naturally though, if not surprisingly easy. Every little advance, each milestone of recovery, praising him on completing little tasks, taking steps forward. Going to the loo on his own, with the catheter, without the catheter. Buying pants, then pads and all the things he needed to make life bearable. But we got through all of this with humour, the way we tackle most things where possible. But the worry and fear were always present.The ‘what ifs’ always in my head nagging away at my safety, my security, my love for this wonderful man. We were in the supermarket on one occasion and he went off to the toilets only to return with a huge grin on his face. ‘I used the urinal!’ he whispered in my ear, ‘stood up’. We hugged and laughed and were looked at with surprise by other shoppers. Only others who have shared this journey will understand the importance of this. Every step forward was shared, every visit to the hospital for blood tests, results we shared. We became almost inseparable and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The closeness was there before PC and is stronger now.
So why the picture above?
In sickness and in Health’ our vows said and I didn’t falter, well not in front of anyone, not on the outside, as David never has when I have been ill. Goodness knows it has been often enough. But what they didn’t say was this. What I wasn’t ready for, prepared for or expected came as a shock. I was a strong professional woman with my own practice, caring for and helping those who came to me as clients. All nature of issues, physical and psychological. I worked with depression, anxiety, fear, PTSD and any other emotion known to man. But PC hit me like a sledgehammer and I was left wanting. But I wasn’t warned and I wasn’t ready for the strongest emotion this nasty illness thrust upon me. Fear. I wasn’t ready for that. I also wasn’t ready for the worry. I wasn’t ready for the huge sadness at changes that occurred in my husband and in our marriage. I just wasn’t ready! No-where did it warn me about any of this? I openly admit to struggling. I was angry, sad, terrified I would lose this wonderful man and scared out of my mind that he would change so much that I wouldn’t be the right person for him anymore. Why? Because I had done so much reading, I read of men having hormone treatment and how their partners struggled with how their men had changed. Could I do this? Would I cope? The ‘what ifs’ had a field day as anyone who has read my blogs will have seen. Yes the man has the cancer, the disease, the pain and discomfort but we as wives and partners are equally affected. Not in the same way of course but equally as bad. We feel alone in all of this.When we met people out, when family and friends rang they would always ask after David. I was happy they cared. I would give them updates and be pleased when the news was good. This is the man I love. The man who is my rock, my life. So asking after him made me pleased they cared.
Throughout the whole 2 years, I tried to keep a strong attitude, tried not to let people see how close I was to falling apart. Nobody could have felt more inadequate, closer to the edge, full of negative emotions than I did at this time. I felt emotions I didn’t know I had and this made me feel guilty, ashamed. David had the cancer so why was it affecting me in this horrid way? After a blog a few weeks ago, a gentleman questioned this. ‘It is your husband who has PC. Not you’ or similar words and I know that. I can understand why he questioned what I was going through but it has affected me in a huge way, as it does other wives and partners.Life itself was a mess when PC reared its ugly head. It has no consideration for how your life is when it strikes. It strikes on top of the nasty things already there. It shows no compassion. It never comes in isolation, how can it? But we, as a family had always been strong and now I felt it all changing, disintegrating around me. The family stuff, the bullying, lies and libelous stories by my daughter Lisa and my youngest sister Trisha, had left me already at a very low point, and Davids illness had almost pushed me over the edge. These are the only credentials I have, for writing this blog. I never showed how everything was affecting me, making me ill and so when I was even lower, I still put on a brave face but secretly hoped that someone would notice and ask me how I was.
But.
No one, ever asked after me. Never said ‘are you okay?’ ‘How do you feel?” Do you want to talk?” I had always been the one, others came to for help, advice or a friendly ear. Maybe they didn’t see how much I needed someone to ask me how I was, in all the horrible things that happen around PC. Perhaps my guard was so good, my ‘pretend’ so strong that no one saw Me and how things really were.I have read this week and other weeks, of wives and partners feeling a bit ‘left out’ if that is the correct phrase to use. People in their circle not asking after their welfare, asking how they are, offering a listening ear, a friendly chat. Maybe because it is our husband who has the illness, that they don’t even think about how all of the tests, treatment etc. affects the partner of the man affected. Maybe. But I would like to see this change. WE MATTER. We are struggling, becoming depressed. Scared, worn down with worry. I call PC the couple’s cancer as it affects us both. During the early days, the worry and fear are huge. During treatment again the worry is almost unbearable and at times you feel helpless. The waiting is horrendous. Trying to stay upbeat in front of the man you love is hard work. Trying to keep the truth of how you really are, hidden, is a struggle and can add to your tiredness and depression.Sometimes you feel like you are going to break. Feel you are in a world you don’t recognize. A scary, ‘medical’ world that is alien to you. You don’t feel like a wife but a carer. You feel all on your own in your fear and worry. Or is that just me?
I don’t think so, as I have read this past week, of many who are at the end of their tether. Feel they are not coping. Scared, sad, angry and feeling helpless and hopeless. Some on the verge of leaving the marriage, PC having pushed them over the edge. If the marriage was not strong before, maybe about to break up, how hard must it be for wives/partners to then leave. I feel so much for these poor women. This illness can tax the strongest of marriages/relationships and pull a couple further apart. If they stay together because the man is ill, will it work? I don’t know. If they leave are they then full of guilt? I expect so but hope not. I have read of ladies in my groups not coping, feeling angry, sad etc. and no one asking after them. I know that feeling. I have also read of some feeling bad because they have these emotions, these feelings and I want to shout. ‘Don’t feel bad. Please’. ‘Sadly,during this journey, this unwanted unsigned up for journey, these feelings can become the norm. We all have them.’ I became accustomed to this new me, this new norm but determined it would not stay around forever. None of us want sympathy, that is an unwanted unwarranted feeling, we are not after that. We just want to be asked how we are.So I say to all women struggling on this journey with PC. Shout, vent, show your feelings, I hear you! I have been you.
For some, the end of all the fear and pain is not good. Some sadly lose their men to this vile disease and I am so sad for all of you. These posts are hard to read but sending ‘hugs’ and condolences might just help a tiny bit. Some on here are able to get through and survive, different maybe, but survived none the less. And for some of us, it does get better.I like to read all the happy stories, all the success stories all the stories of men surviving and moving on. It is important for us to read these and encourage anyone coming after us. Positive posts are good and useful to new companions on this journey.
Maybe if family and friends could appreciate how very hard it is for partner of PC sufferers, they may be able to help more. Listen to the woman, give her time and space to vent her feelings. Try and understand how hard it is to cope with everything PC brings, during treatment and after. Just to be asked how we are would mean such a lot. So just ask her if she is okay. Ask her if she needs to talk. Just ask her, please.
Don’t get me wrong here. PC is a nasty illness and a serious one. As women we will somehow survive it along with our men, maybe be different from before PC but we will survive. It is not the ‘Good cancer’ as I have written a while ago in a blog, there is nothing ‘good’ about any cancer.Men do die from it but more are living with it and after it. I am not in any way saying we, as women, suffer more than our men. I am simply saying that being the partner of a man with PC, is hard. Life is turned on its head for both of you, not just the man. In the beginning, I, for one, was all over the place. I am a senior Health Professional but found it so hard to cope. The thought of what if David died. What would happen if he changed. All the waiting for tests, for results, for treatment took it’ s toll on me, it seemed more than my man. This along with anything and everything that is going on in your life when cancer with a little ’c’ barges into your life and turns your world upside down. The very word, cancer’ hits so hard and fills you with the most horrendous fear. When our men are ill, we do become the strong one, we have to be, even if it’s not part of our nature, of who we were, we have to be strong. We have to be understanding. The wife, the carer and yes, ‘the mum’. Hard for some of us I know. Just to be asked how we are, would mean so much.
Life changes. Not just tiny changes but huge ones as well. Not for everyone but changes happen I believe, in any relationship post PC. That is what makes it different from most other cancers. The physical changes ,the sexual changes are all something that scares us, makes us reluctant to look ahead. I have always found it hard to talk about sex. About the sexual act because of my childhood. Sex was never on our agenda of conversation. David and I had a wonderful loving physical relationship but it had ceased in 2015 and we were told it was because of the Statins he was taking. We accepted this and enjoyed each others love with a closeness that we both were grateful for. I am only sharing this next bit to encourage all of you who think that after a Robotic procedure, sex is gone for good.
A few days ago, my wonderful man came out of the bathroom smiling like he had won the lottery. ‘It’ was back!’ It’ was working! No aids, no pills, just thinking about me, he said and suddenly there was life! So never give up. David had his surgery back in February 2017. Now we are here, continent and healthy with an undetectable PSA and now life in the bedroom! How lucky are we!
I hope this blog has not upset anyone. I hope it doesn’t come across as ‘poor me’ or ‘poor us women’. I just wanted to share how hard it is for us ladies and ask if others can think about this and ask after any wife/partner whose man is undergoing PC at any stage. Ask how she is, offer her a lending hand or ear. It will mean a lot. PC is a horrible disease and it is hard for us all.
Thankyou for reading and Happy Fathers day to all who are dads. xx
carolannwright 