Round the World Journal
by Matt Donath
No more dates now. I have no more notes in my handwritten journal. Many of the days have become a bit of a blur in my mind.
One day I do remember with chilling clarity comes directly after Sybil's surprise party. I'm sitting in a Singapore hospital room waiting with Sybil before her outpatient surgery to remove the lump on her breast. Although the Singapore doctors have also stated that the lump is almost certainly benign, they recommend removal as a precaution.
We want to get this over with so we can get on with our travels. We've made plans for New Zealand, Australia and Japan, with a possible stop in either Laos or the Philippines. I've brought travel books from the library to the hospital to read while waiting for Sybil.
About 40 minutes after they wheel Sybil away, I undergo a paradigm shift. I put down the travel books. Somehow I know I will not need them. I have a strong certainty that we will be returning home. I keep picturing Sybil's face, lying on the hospital bed, as they wheeled her off.
So, inexplicably, I am calmly prepared when the doctor eventually comes in to give me the worst news of my life. Sybil has cancer. A large malignant lump was removed. The cancer has spread to her lymph system. The doctor was surprised by the discovery. He says he is sorry.
When they bring Sybil back to the room she is crying uncontrollably. She hasn't been told anything yet. She tells me she doesn't know why she is crying, but we know that she has reactions to the anesthesia. I also believe that on a subconscious level she is aware of what went on in the operating room.
We are left alone but I want to wait until the effects of the anesthesia wear off a bit before I try to tell her anything. She is throwing up and choking on the vomit since she can't control her neck muscles very well. I clean her up when this happens and snap at the nurses when they are not attentive.
Finally, she is done throwing up and crying. Her sentences start to consistently make sense. She wants to know where the doctor is and why he hasn't come in to give her the results. I tell Sybil that the doctor has already come in to talk to me. I relay the news. I tell her we are going home. I tell her that I love her and not to worry.
So, we return home. Initially, we stay with my sister in Waukegan, Illinois and I endure the most difficult period in my existence. We have very little money and I have no job and no insurance. Sybil undergoes six more operations as they try unsuccessfully to save her breast and continually find more cancer that needs to be cut out.
At Sybil's insistence, I turn down job offers on both coasts (how fortunate for us that the job market is hot for good tech people) and we return to my birthplace of Chicago and a job with a former employer. We move to a downtown condominium and Sybil undergoes the horrors of chemotherapy. This barbaric "treatment" reduces her to a hairless skeleton. My beautiful wife is transformed into a concentration camp victim.
We are both very tough though. Sybil is extremely active in researching her treatment options. She becomes an expert at deciphering the complex jargon of modern oncology. I concentrate on the holistic side of her recovery. I learn a great deal about cancer and health. We don't give up and we both learn a lot about love. Besides the support received from friends and family, we find the Gilda's Club in Chicago to be a valuable resource.
Next comes the radiation. While not as cruel as the chemotherapy, Sybil suffers through this burning disfigurement. Perhaps the most difficult part of the entire process is not knowing if any of these treatments will do any good. You just have to keep hoping for the best and visualizing a positive outcome.
We celebrate the end of radiation with a short trip through Great Britain. Perhaps we pushed ourselves a bit too much by attempting this, but we had a good time. I'll try to write this up sometime, so be patient with the link.
Now, eleven months after her first operation, Sybil is scheduled to go under the knife one last (we both very much pray) time. Overall she has held up amazingly well. She's starting to regain her hair and some of her weight.
No doubt you will hear people who experience cancer first or second hand tell you that, ultimately, the experience was rewarding for them. This may be difficult for someone who hasn't gone through this to understand. How could such a truly terrible experience be of any benefit?
Well, fortunately, it is. You learn or you lose. You pull together and get through the pain. And in the end, you become a better person. You are better able to deal with life's seemingly lesser ordeals. You become very grateful for the blessings that are given to you. You appreciate the days more fully because you better understand how precious they are.
It may take us some time before we get back to our long-term travels, but we're still planning on them. Thanks for reading the journal and I wish you the best of health and travels.
Cheers,
Matt Donath
Chicago, 11/9/99
mdonath@yahoo.com
PS - Once Sybil recovers a bit more she's planning on putting up a page relating some of the many things she's learned while going through cancer treatment. I'll link to it from my home page: http://www.oocities.org/mdonath