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Tammy, please weigh in on your uncle’s condition. Is he also a “Tarheel”? Haven’t heard from you lately. Everything going along alright for now? Find your way – its there waiting for you to discover it.

Hello, Moonchaser, and fellow tarheel. So is Cherbourg. Its amazing the stories that find there way here. You will find a certain and sincere peace in this wonderful family. Like you, I’m sorta new, but it didn’t take me long to find love and good will among these wonderful folks. Keep loving your uncle, believing in miracles, and sharing your journey. You’ll find us all willing to help carry your burden.

Darla and others who have lost a loving spouse:
After losing my wife in November, I needed to do something significant and personal to preserve all the wonderful memories of our life together. So, I went through the house and got every picture ever taken with my wife in it. I laid them out on the floor, all in a single row, and organized them as close to chronological order as I could determine. There were 120 photos altogether. Then I took them to a photo studio where they inserted them one by one into a computer, and transferred the entire portfolio to a DVD. I had picked out 6 songs that were particularly sentimental for the project. These six songs were then dubbed over the photos and timed to end as the last picture ended. The result was exactly what I had hoped for. Its basically a pictoral history of our married life from beginning to end, with beautiful music accompanying. I can finally get through it now without crying a gusher. It has meant a lot to me in the healing process, and I reccommend it to anyone who is similarly afflicted with obsessive sentimentality disorder like I am. Smiles to you, and keep kickin’ cancer…..

I am a “first timer” who has just registered today for this wonderful website. I have taken a quick look at the recent posts – especially those from Margaret and Darla, and the others of you who have given Margaret such heartfelt expressions of support and encouragement. Margaret, I sincerely feel your pain and your anxiety, as does everyone who has commented, and I wish nothing but the very best for you and your husband. I second Darla’s caution to you to understand that everyone’s experience is different, and not to draw any comparisons or conclusions about survival times, doctors, procedures, hospitals, etc.

I am a 65 year old professional, live and work in eastern North Carolina, and was married to the only woman I ever loved in 1966. We have four daughters and five grandchildren. I still remember that Saturday in the movies. We were both 14 years old, 7 days apart in age, and grew up and went to school together in the same small town. It had been reported to me by a mutual school friend that she might consider allowing me to hold her hand, if I was brave enough. Up to that point, we had just been flirting – but nothing physical. There we sat in the theater together watching the first movie of a “double feature”, on through the previews of coming attractions, the news reels (it was 1958), and the cartoons. Towards the end of the second feature, I still hadn’t made my move. Then with about 2 minutes to go, with shaking palms awash in sweat, I managed just enough courage to reach out and make the connnection. As I write this, I still hold that vivid memory dear in my heart, and remember the episode like it happened yesterday – truly one of the luckiest days of my life.

She was diagnosed with CC in late February 2006 – a 9 cm tumor, thought to be inoperable by the initial doctors due to its size, stood out in stark, ugly darkened contrast on the scan. She had become jaundiced just prior to a scheduled gall bladder surgery. She was otherwise healty, had no prior symptoms until then, and was neither a user of alcohol, drugs, or tobacco, and never had hepatitis – all known risk factors for CC. This is what is so insidious about this rare cancer – it gives you little if any advance warning. We were told by the first doctors to “go home and watch a few more sunsets”. We rejected that advice and went immediately to Duke University Medical Center in Durham. She came under the care of an agressive surgeon who said he would operate, eventhough the tumor was large, because there was no evidence of metastases at that point, and the tumor was primary to the liver. He said the objective of the surgery was to “reset the clock” – and we had an inherent understanding of what he meant. In addition to liver resection (70%) surgery at Duke 30 days post diagnosis, she subsequently underwent 3 months radiation at Duke; then off and on chemotherapy at our local treatment center (cisplatin, gemcitobene, and others) in 9 week intervals, followed by periodic pet and cat scans, MRI’s, evaluations, and such; frequent neupogen injections prior to treatment day; targeted radiation delivered intravenously up through the femoral artery to the tumor site using therasphere encapsulated radioactive “yitrium-90″micro glass beads; microwave ablation; etc etc on and on. Except for emergency surgery at Florida Celebration Hospital during a trip to Disneyworld last February to relieve swelling, all other post surgical treatment was done at the UNC Lineberger Comprehensive Cancer Center at Chapel Hill, NC – a place where true miracles are now occurring. Her Duke surgeon (who we obviously hold dear in our hearts) was Carlos Marroquin, now attached to a hospital in Rochester, NY. Her UNC Lineberger doctor was Bert O’Neil who we likewise hold in high esteem.

We lost her November 7, 2009 after a long and valiant fight – almost four years after initial diagnosis and major liver resection.

We never asked the tough questions, never asked any doctor how much time she had left (although we had a fairly good idea), and never even knew what stage her cancer was – those things were simply felt to be out of our control. We always talked about what we were going to do “when you get well”.

People ask me how we got through all that. My answer is that she and I had a firm belief in God, trusted in his mercy through faith, and had claimed our eternal salvation by accepting Christ as the son of God and our personal savior. Its just that simple.

Now for the happy part! The last four years were the best years of our lives. How can this be? Here’s the answer: when a man and a woman are as deeply in love with each other as we were – sharing the same foundation of faith and spiritual belief – are then confronted with their own mortality, they start living and communicating and treating each other like they should have been doing all along. That makes for an absolutely wonderful relationship, one that can overcome any obstacle or adversity. The fact of the matter is that our stars crossed from the moment our hands first touched at that theater in 1958 and stayed crossed, faithfully and loyally, for over 51 years, 43 years of which were as man and wife. During all that time, we shared more joy than anyone could expect out of life – and yes some sadness as well. Sadness is fleeting and cured by time, but happiness vividly lives on. Really, now, what man or woman is entitled to expect more than that out of the uncertainties and vagaries of a life we all must inevitably deal with?

I want to post a subsequent message later to tell you all about some specific research in CC which is just getting underway at the UNC Lineberger Comprehensive Cancer Center at Chapel Hill. I promise not to be as “wordy” as I was today. This was my very first post to the site. Perhaps everyone’s first time is the lengthiest. Thank you all for putting up with it – it has helped me deal with the loss.

I wish you all the best life has to offer and that each of you will find ways to deal with your adversity. I found my way, and so can you.