Searching …

Photo by Drew Graham on Unsplash

I’ve been on a self-imposed interrogation filled with “what if” questions that has left me emotionally bruised and battered. What if I recognized the symptoms when our walks went from 7 miles to 5 to 4 to 3 because of the fatigue she was feeling? What if I thought of anything of the pain she complained about in her abdomen when we were skiing? What if I had reacted to the symptoms faster? Or learned about home care that I could’ve incorporated into our lives that might’ve made us go into the hospital before the problems reaching critical state? What if this, what if that.... as I am desperately searching for answers that would alter the reality and outcome.  

This is not a new phenomenon, as it was a regular behavior throughout various times Brynn was hospitalized. But the questions were always suppressed with feelings of hope after she would recover, or simply a daily laughter that carried a lot of weight in our relationship that allowed us to forget and move forward. “Forget and move forward.” That was a very common stance we had taken as we didn’t want the experience weighing us down that could impede the desire and will to fight cancer. We needed to forget the past and focus on the now, with a future that was bright. Perhaps one day I will relearn this lesson – not forgetting but forgiving.     

Time has created space for my grief to spread out a bit, and the volatility of emotions have become more sporadic burst. But I am also left with a lot of internal punishment from the guilt I feel, building up more pressure than I am able to release through a lot of running, writing and other self-care type activities that I’ve incorporated to my grieving process. I’ve been trying to come up with ideas of what to do that can help me deal with my current state. Mountains have always provided happiness, and Brynn and I had been seriously discussing building our dream home in Montana once she had beat this thing. We imagined our future where she focused on writing – she was the true writer in our family and had started writing a book – and me continuing my work in Corporate America while also pursuing a path that would lead to being a college professor at some point. The mountains were where we showed our playful, joyous kid side to each other while falling in love. It’s where we left the daily stressors at the bottom of the hill and carved our Picasso’s on the fresh snow. As Brynn wrote, we were craving for the slower paced life, but one that is rich with living. I am now thinking about going up to the mountains for the month of December to write, reflect, contemplate, exercise, ski and just be, hoping to start healing the emotional scars I am left with. I promise not to become Jack Nicholson in The Shinning. 

That said, writing has become a double edged sword that helps with release, but it also requires to reflect on love, loss, missing and longing for Brynn. It’s allowed me to smooth out the internal chaos developed over 7 months of being in a crisis driven, high-charged emotional state. But as I reflect more about the experience, anger is becoming the prominent emotion because of how much I am missing her, combined with the guilt I have towards the decisions I had to make and the ones I did not. Hindsight is an exercise that I am intellectually capable of understanding its detriment, but emotionally incapable of stopping it.   

I’ve directed a lot of vitriol towards myself for the feeling of failing Brynn, as well as the healthcare system that is not moving fast enough on preventative screening and care. According to our oncologist, the number of patients between 20-40 who are being diagnosed with Stage 4 colorectal cancer has quadrupled over the past 20 years. No one knows why. This is a despicable statistic that has a face, a family, a young person in their prime attached to it.  And we have not done enough to reevaluate preventative screening policies to align with these trends. Even my brother-in-law, Ryan, had to aggressively push and obtain an exception for a colonoscopy that is only approved for ages 50+ by disclosing Brynn’s condition - he had three precancerous polyps removed. However, I am mostly angry at myself. Angry at the times I brushed off a complaint; angry for not recognizing or acting fast enough when I noticed something different that had her eventually end up in critical condition with lengthy hospital stay. These events left her with a weaker body and immune system from the arduous recovery process that made fighting the next battle all the more difficult. I can’t stop thinking about the “what ifs” behind all of this. The rational side of me understands that I may have had very little impact in the macro aspects of Brynn’s health… but I am not rational at the moment. There is a war waged between my brain and my heart.

I want to be clear that this is not my way of garnering some sort of sympathy, or better yet, platitudes like “it’s not your fault.” Unfortunately, there is not a single person in this world, including Brynn, that can ease that thought and guilt. It’s up to me to work on self-forgiveness that will most likely come with time. I am writing these things because it allows me to structure and deal with the type of emotions before they go towards dangerous places. I am discovering the self-preservation aspect of this process that is needed, and we all go about it a different way.  

I have a lot on my mind, and I am trying to be very conscious of where I am in my process of unpacking and dealing with them, while recognizing and accepting each thought, emotion, and feeling as they come. I am working hard to avoid my natural tendency to mask things, or suppress them.  I’ve avoided drinking myself to oblivion, or taken up other behaviors that are generally great for avoidance that allows you to hide behind the problem instead of facing it. I want, no need, to experience the feelings in order to get them out so the wounds do not end up developing into an infection later on. Pretty much all my life, and particularly over the course of the experience dealing with Brynn’s care, I had to compartmentalize extensively in order to manage the various aspects of the day-to-day, the struggles and stressors. This required a lot of energy and focus that has left me drained. The control and stability I had to maintain was counter to where I was emotionally many times. It turns out that grieving is also very exhausting, as you’re consistently treading water in order to stay afloat with the risk of sinking to the bottom. But falling apart is not my way of coping with things. Thus, I’m putting focus on staying in-tune with my mental and emotional state, while living through the feelings I have for Brynn and the loss. This is the best way to honor her and our relationship we had developed.  

I realize that the internal interrogator will eventually have to accept the innocence of the suspect and let go. Unfortunately, it will be because of time served, and not because of satisfactions of any answers I am searching for. I recently had a birthday, and each year since turning 37, I started making commitments to myself. These are not resolutions such as specific goals. They’re things I want to work on, such as being more focused or purposeful as two previous examples. I had forgotten what last year’s commitment was given what we had been dealing with, so I looked at my list, and of course it was the Year of Growth - I probably had different lessons in mind. For this year, I have made a commitment to focus on healing. Healing from the guilt, loss, anger, regrets, the what ifs, wonderment, and simply from the hurt of not having Brynn here. But more so healing from the fear of love...  

-Troy  

P.S: Caregivers… it is a responsibility you have to embrace; to be the eyes and ears of your medical team given that they’re not there with you at all time to monitor issues until they become critical. One of my biggest regrets was not being more alarmist from the start. I had to learn through ugly experiences. If I can help anyone with an advice, this would be it. Learn your loved one’s health, symptoms and monitor it closely. It’s not enjoyable, but neither is losing them.