It’s Easy to Take the Normal Things for Granted

When one is diagnosed with cancer, the first few weeks are extremely busy. As my wife (Lyn) began the battle, our days were exhausting. Because Lyn was working on speech therapy, this made her very tired as her brain worked overtime toward recovery. However, because she was on a brain steroid to prevent inflammation, sleeping was a challenge at times. She tried to sleep and recharge whenever she could. When she napped, I napped! Rest was important, and it allowed me to better respond to her. I wanted to be available to help her in whatever way she needed as part of her treatment.

As part of her therapy, Lyn wanted to play, laugh and exercise! We walked many miles per day which helped her physically, emotionally, and mentally. On these walks, Lyn could not talk due to the stroke. However, we took her iPad, or her phone, and she would do her best to type in a question. At times when I could not understand what she was asking it was heart-wrenching, painful, and emotional for the both of us. Sometimes we would cry while walking because it was so frustrating. However, we pushed on and I would reassure her that she was doing great—and she was!

For the stroke patient, it is emotional because what they once did with ease, is now impossible. Lyn could not form a single word. We had to build from the foundation up. I had to have her watch how my mouth, lips, tongue and throat formed sounds. We didn’t even attempt words at this point—only sounds! On our therapy walks we read mailboxes, license plates, and street signs to stimulate the brain. We also went over all the sounds of the alphabet. DANG—we both realized that English is a hard language to teach and learn! 

In all honesty, during the time she could not speak, it was extremely difficult on me because I missed hearing her voice. It was emotional, and in my quiet times alone with God I cried for her. I wished I could take on her battle for just a day to give her relief. Part of the pain was that I did not know if I would ever hear her speak again. The house was too quiet! The last thing I heard her say was at bedtime on May 13 (my birthday) was, “Goodnight babe. I hope you had a good birthday. I love you Jeffy.” 

Besides going to the formal speech therapy sessions, and our therapy walks, Lyn worked on her own. I vividly recall the first two words she clearly said: “Breeee-annnn-nnnna” (the name of our daughter Breanna) and “winnnnn-dowwww”! Why did she say the word, “window?” It was nothing magical—it was what she was looking at! I was in the bedroom and she was in the shower doing speech therapy! If that isn’t multitasking I don’t know what is! I recall being overcome by emotion as I heard Lyn say those first two words. The words from her mouth came out so slowly, but at least I knew she would speak again. The word “Window” became significant, memorable, and humorous for us from that point on.

In fact, for the full two years of her battle whenever one of us would say the word “Window,” the other person would quickly say, “WINDOW!” and laugh. It was our way of staying connected to all she went through, and the growth she had experienced by her hard work, determination, and professional therapy.

We had an amazing speech therapist that Lyn connected with immediately. This made her sessions more enjoyable and productive. You could sense the care and compassion from our therapist and he became a piece of our medical family. We could feel that he was cheering for Lyn!

During her speech recovery she made tremendous strides forward. Each time our children, or our close friends visited they were amazed how quickly Lyn was forming words. They would tell her how much better she was speaking. It was exciting and important for Lyn to get this feedback and made her push forward. She would respond with a thumb up and smile, and later as she spoke more, would respond with, “REALLY?” She would be so excited and clap when receiving the encouraging news. An encouraging word is so important!

Lyn made tremendous progress in a short period of time and was starting to speak small words. However, she could not say my name, and in fact, speaking my name was the last name in our family that she could say! I joked with her later and said she did it on purpose to get back at me for all the practical jokes I played on her during our dating years.

During her time of learning, I longed to hear four sweet words, “I love you Jeffy.” When life is going well, it is easy to take the normal things in life for granted. I had heard the words, “I love you” thousands of times in our thirty years together. However, once Lynette could no longer speak I realized I had taken those words for granted. Thankfully in time I heard those beautiful four words, “I love you Jeffy.” 

Lyn’s stroke and subsequent recovery left an indelible mark on me.  Never again would I take words for granted. After her recovery Lyn and I became more expressive with each other, family, friends, coworkers, and even complete strangers. With Lyn’s brain cancer we were acutely aware that another cerebral hemorrhage could occur at any time, so we made sure to tell others how much we cared about them. We recognized how quickly something so simple can be taken away from one moment to the next.