It is two months today since the worst day of my life. Worse than election day 2016. Worse than inauguration day 2017. Two months ago I lost my husband, bridge partner, companion, soulmate, caregiver.
Charley was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma a little over four years ago. I almost lost him in 2016 when he did an immunotherapy clinical trial of modified T-cells. It was amazing although he was in the hospital for 18 days with two stints in ICU and 7 hours on a ventilator (the hardest thing I ever did was say they could intubate him.) Afterward they couldn’t detect any lymphoma, but it only lasted about 8 months and it came back. Or more likely, some had been dormant or too hard to detect for the T-cells and eventually they woke up.
But he didn’t die from lymphoma. He had just started a new chemotherapy, a simple injection in the belly rather than an infusion. We also had seen his oncologist the day before and reported digestive issues. No one suspected what was really happening. You apparently can’t see it on an x-ray or CT scan or PET scan.
He started having severe abdominal pain Tuesday evening, the day he had started the new treatment. It got really bad and I took him to the hospital. They admitted him and determined he had a perforated duodenal ulcer. We had no idea. They repaired it but it was too late. He died of hyperkalemia (too much potassium) and septic shock.
You can read his obituary today at The Seattle Times. It’s too expensive to say everything in the newspaper. I will write a few blog posts about him over the next few months to try to get things off my chest.
Thanks for reading.
Read More