Sunday, August 26, 2012

10 days ago, the world stopped turning...

... and came crashing down around me.

10 days ago, my young, healthy husband was diagnosed with cancer.

Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma.


In less than a month, a lump the size of a grape that he found in a lymph node under his jaw had grown to the size of a lemon.

In one month.

As a family, we have faced many, many challenges in the last 2 years.  The types of challenges that no one ever wants to deal with.

But we survived, grew stronger, and life went on.

This is uncharted territory for me.  I feel lost.

I am scared.

I know that I am not the first person to go through this, and I will not be the last.  By chronicling the challenges we are about to face, I hope that I can help others find the strength to also carry on.

My name is Amy Carlson.

I met my husband Ken in December of 2009; I am his third and final wife... something that I have always said with a bit of a chuckle, but it doesn't seem so funny now.

Ken  has four children - Ashley, Thor, Duncan and Stewart.  Duncan and Stewart live with us full time (they're my babies).  Their ages range from 7 years, down to 9 months.

I never thought I'd be dealing with two children in diapers, and a diagnosis of cancer at the same time.  The concept has been completely foreign to me up until now... I though having two infants was enough of a challenge!

The last 10 days, I've been doing my best to live in denial; truly I have.  Every so often, little bits of reality sneak through, and it hurts so badly.

Yesterday, I had to pick up another pain medication for Ken (his tumor his growing so fast, that it's tearing the normal tissue surrounding it, causing a great deal of discomfort).  We know the pharmacist.  He asked me if Ken had been on this medication before - I didn't know.  He asked what kind of pain he was having.

I could tell by the look in his eyes that he did not expect me to say Lymphoma.

No one expects it.  Ken is all of 31.


And upon leaving the pharmacy, all I wanted to do is cry.

We don't know much at his point.  Ken has yet to speak to the oncologist he's been referred to.  We don't know if he'll need surgery, or if chemotherapy will take care of the tumor.

We just don't know.

And at this point, it's the not knowing that's the worse part.

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