Round 3

Shirley and I experienced our second visit to Memorial Sloan Kettering today. Getting her pre-op done in preparation for tomorrow's surgery. FILO, started at 8 am after walking up from Grand Central and arrived home after 6 pm. Back in tomorrow by car despite POTUS being on the east side of Manhattan. We are old hands now and seem to take it in stride, though I shudder at the thought of more surgery and excising her melanoma. Necessary, but a bitch.

Savoring a beautiful day in Bruce Park...

HOW TO SLEEP LIKE A LOG AND MANAGE STRESS NATURALLY

Thursday, May 29th  2:00 PM

The Friends and Staff of Cos Cob Library welcome Michael Mendribil, ND who will unlock the mysteries of stress hormones and how they get in the way of a good night's sleep and a joyful and productive life. Michael Mendribil will uncover the roots of this common problem and explain which supplements, herbal and nutritional protocols, and lifestyle adjustments might help. If you or someone you know has difficulty sleeping or is over-stressed, come and hear how you can start to sleep well and manage your demanding life. No registration is required for this program. In the Community Room of the Cos Cob Library

Pregnancy cravings?

Remember Pregnancy Cravings?

They’re Back.

Odd, but true, if you’ve been through pregnancy with your wife, you’ve had preparation for some of the rigors and nuances of treatment for breast cancer, whether surgery, chemotherapy, hormone therapy, radiation therapy or a combination of all of these.  In Shirley’s case, following her first modified radical mastectomy, we had six months of chemotherapy and hormone therapy, then six weeks of daily radiation therapy, followed by another six months of chemotherapy.  It was a long year for both of us.  She was the one getting zapped, as she called it at the time, but we were experiencing treatment.

Shirley applied a lesson from pregnancy to her approach to chemotherapy.  When she was pregnant with our daughter, Alison, a friend told her that not all women have severe morning sickness.  That knowledge or suggestion led her to a pregnancy with relatively little or mild morning sickness.  Mind over matter?  The power of self-talk? 

Shirley understood in her soul that each of us is unique.  Each of us reacts in our own unique manner to chemotherapy.  One size does not fit all.  As a result, her experience with her very aggressive treatment regimen was relatively mild, at least when compared with horror stories about chemo.  She did have her moments, but understood she was getting closer each time to the end of treatment and staying alive.

The other parallel to pregnancy was food cravings.  I would often be asked to pick up Chocolate Chocolate Hagen-Dazs ice cream, or some other food or beverage she was craving.  This ran the gamut from pretzel sticks as a munchie to eating peppermint candy to get rid of the metallic taste left by her chemo treatment.  All of this, of course, meant that I was often the family shopper, picking up the groceries, a task long since reclaimed by Shirley.

Cook A Meal

Shirley has always been and remains a great cook, whether making a fancy meal or emptying the refrigerator of all leftovers for a delicious soup.  But now is the time to give her a break.  You prepare meals from start to finish: shopping, preparing, cooking, serving and especially cleaning up afterwards.  That means the whole job, so once again she saves her strength and energy for the important work at hand.

Men are supposed to be the world’s greatest chefs, so be one.  Bring out your creative and nurturing side, figuratively and literally.  Develop a new talent or build on an old one.  Are you out of practice because she’s such a good cook, now’s the time to plunge back in. Develop your talent.  Life is much more enjoyable being a Renaissance man, a multi-talented person using both your right and left brain.

And she may want simple things, as not all food appeals during the course of her chemotherapy treatment.  Bon appetit.

Sandy 3, Peter 0 - No New York Post

Help With Your Child or Children

Shirley and I have been blessed with one child, our daughter, Alison, who was three years old when we started Shirley’s treatment.  Dick Hollister, her oncologist, gave us a choice following her surgery: the option of having more children or aggressive treatment that might save Shirley’s life, a long shot at best, but a remote possibility.  Our joint decision, our opting for her life, took a nanosecond.

Raising Alison, being her mother, was Shirley’s passionate mission.  It was her reason for living and surviving, for beating her cancer.  Her only major regret or concern was whether she would live to see Alison grow up, become a woman, pursue her dreams, find love, marry, and, God willing, make her a grand-mother.  There is simply no joy comparable to being a parent, whether a mother or a father.  No happiness is greater than being with your child and experiencing their growth.

Shirley was an accomplished, talented elementary school teacher.  She might have sought full time employment, but cancer changed her course and our course.  She worked part-time instead in elementary school and early childhood education in order to enable her to be home for Alison.  She was for all intents and purposes a full-time Mom, the noblest and most difficult of career choices.  It was and is a difficult economic squeeze that allowed Shirley to live her passion and be a real Mom.  If you meet Alison today, you’ll know she made the right choice.

Your children need both of you.  Depending on their age, they may or may not really understand what is happening, or share your anxiety and fears.  They will know that something is amiss.  They need you both.  And she will need you to take over more and more as chemotherapy or radiation take their toll, making her tired and sick, taking away her energy and leaving her in need of rest.

She is a warrior doing battle.  To win ultimate victory, let her husband (what a marvelous word) her strength and resources.  She will do what she can.  She will want to be involved.  But you need to step in seamlessly when she needs down time.  Can you give a greater gift?

And our joyous update is that Shirley and I together walked Alison down the aisle on May 27, 1011 to wed the world’s ultimate romantic, a Renaissance man who gives her joy, love, and respect every day: Pete D’Alessandro. Alison today is a talented writer pursuing her dreams in Hollywood.

No more mid-life bimbo

Let Her Know You’re There

for the Long Haul

Remove any fear of abandonment.  It has been reported that 7 of 10 husbands leave and divorce after their wife is diagnosed and treated for breast cancer.  Not very good for we men, however, the same rate of breakup is true for almost any trauma in a couple’s life, such as a child with severe disabilities.  If a marriage relationship is weak already, not well grounded, it can be torn asunder.  Conversely, a basically solid relationship will become better and richer getting through an adversity like this.

We as a culture are experiencing a 60% divorce rate with or without trauma as a precipitating “cause.”  We now read about young people having “starter marriages” as a prelude to or preparation for a “real” marriage.  Whatever happened to “in sickness and in health” or “until death us do part.”  Be a real man.  Love her.  Reassure her.  Remember the love and the friendship that brought you together.  Stay with her.  Grow with her. Let her complete you as she did before cancer struck.  Your wedding vows are sacred.  They are meant for a lifetime.

When the dust settles after this battle, a real man is still standing together with his soul mate, his lover, his bride, his partner for life, and, if so blessed, the mother of his children.

You will be glad you did this.

Go to Her Appointments

Go to the multitude of appointments with your wife, your partner, as much as you can, holding her hand literally and figuratively.  In 1982, I had the luxury of relative independence in my 24/7 position as the CEO of an innovative and unique community health education and wellness center.  I built my profes-sional and community calendar around Shirley’s treatment schedule.  I went with Shirley to virtually every physician visit, every chemotherapy appoint-ment.  I felt a bit guilty about sitting in the waiting room, not going into the exam room with her for the actual treatments.  Perhaps a bit of a wimp or squeamish, but I was with her in mind, body, and spirit every step of the way. If it were possible, I would have taken it for her, traded places with her.

It is not what you do when you accompany her to treatment, but rather the act itself that speaks volumes to her.  It also gives you some sense of empowerment.  You are more than a helpless spec-tator cursing the damned disease.  You have joined the battle.  You are helping wrest control from the cancer along with your wife, your family and friends, your treatment team, and all of the support system around you.

There is also a practical side.  Hearing a diagnosis of cancer overwhelms the senses.  Doctors try to help you understand, but their daily jargon, the language of medicine, might as well be classical Greek or Latin.  With two of you there, there are two sets of ears to hear what is said.  There are two mouths to ask questions.  This helps avoid the tendency to hear what you want to hear.  Being with her each time will reassure her, help her overcome, and make you feel good about yourself.  She’ll love you for it.

Go to Her Appointments

Go to the multitude of appointments with your wife, your partner, as much as you can, holding her hand literally and figuratively.  In 1982, I had the luxury of relative independence in my 24/7 position as the CEO of an innovative and unique community health education and wellness center.  I built my profes-sional and community calendar around Shirley’s treatment schedule.  I went with Shirley to virtually every physician visit, every chemotherapy appoint-ment.  I felt a bit guilty about sitting in the waiting room, not going into the exam room with her for the actual treatments.  Perhaps a bit of a wimp or squeamish, but I was with her in mind, body, and spirit every step of the way. If it were possible, I would have taken it for her, traded places with her.

It is not what you do when you accompany her to treatment, but rather the act itself that speaks volumes to her.  It also gives you some sense of empowerment.  You are more than a helpless spec-tator cursing the damned disease.  You have joined the battle.  You are helping wrest control from the cancer along with your wife, your family and friends, your treatment team, and all of the support system around you.

There is also a practical side.  Hearing a diagnosis of cancer overwhelms the senses.  Doctors try to help you understand, but their daily jargon, the language of medicine, might as well be classical Greek or Latin.  With two of you there, there are two sets of ears to hear what is said.  There are two mouths to ask questions.  This helps avoid the tendency to hear what you want to hear.  Being with her each time will reassure her, help her overcome, and make you feel good about yourself.  She’ll love you for it.

Go to Her Appointments

Go to the multitude of appointments with your wife, your partner, as much as you can, holding her hand literally and figuratively.  In 1982, I had the luxury of relative independence in my 24/7 position as the CEO of an innovative and unique community health education and wellness center.  I built my profes-sional and community calendar around Shirley’s treatment schedule.  I went with Shirley to virtually every physician visit, every chemotherapy appoint-ment.  I felt a bit guilty about sitting in the waiting room, not going into the exam room with her for the actual treatments.  Perhaps a bit of a wimp or squeamish, but I was with her in mind, body, and spirit every step of the way. If it were possible, I would have taken it for her, traded places with her.

It is not what you do when you accompany her to treatment, but rather the act itself that speaks volumes to her.  It also gives you some sense of empowerment.  You are more than a helpless spec-tator cursing the damned disease.  You have joined the battle.  You are helping wrest control from the cancer along with your wife, your family and friends, your treatment team, and all of the support system around you.

There is also a practical side.  Hearing a diagnosis of cancer overwhelms the senses.  Doctors try to help you understand, but their daily jargon, the language of medicine, might as well be classical Greek or Latin.  With two of you there, there are two sets of ears to hear what is said.  There are two mouths to ask questions.  This helps avoid the tendency to hear what you want to hear.  Being with her each time will reassure her, help her overcome, and make you feel good about yourself.  She’ll love you for it.

Remains the case as we celebrated 36 years...

I Love You, Not Your Breasts

Despite our nation’s growing obesity, we are a breast and body image fixated society, from Betty Grable pinups in World War II, Marilyn Monroe and Jane Mansfield in the 1950’s and 1960’s to Salma Hayek and Pamela Anderson today.  Men talk about being “leg men” or “breast men” with bravado and sophomoric stupidity, as if large breasts or great legs has anything at all to do with being a woman, or a lifetime companion, or a long-term, intimate lover.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I still like to look at and admire beautiful women from the gorgeous 76-year-old former model in a smoking cessation class in 1982 to the stars and women around me.  However, it is my bride, my lover, and my lifetime partner who is my sexual and sensual interest today.  Your bride, your lover, your partner needs to know that you love who she is, not what type of body she has or the size of her breasts. 

Shirley is as beautiful and sexy today as she was on our first date, if not more so.  Our love making then and today was not and is not hampered by her having one breast instead of two, or now none.  Rather, it enriches our intimacy.  When we make love, she completes me, makes me whole and alive.  God created a matching set that fits together nicely.  Your bride needs reassurance in the face of an assault on her femininity and sense of womanhood.  She needs to know by what you say and what you do that this set of circumstances is not the end of your sex life, but rather a new, sometimes frightening, and exciting sex life with heightened sensitivity and caring.

Not easy for a child of the 60's

Being There

Your partner, your wife to whom you have pledged a lifetime commitment, needs to know you are there.  She needs a feeling of security.  She wants to know that you meant what you said about being together in sickness and in health.  Women need, want, and deserve a feeling of security.  You are responsible for letting her know and feel that you’ll be with her today, tomorrow, and forever.

Here we are today, 36 years of marriage later.  It was less than easy, but has been steady, up hill, growing, maturing and becoming what God had intended, including being a loving, faithful husband.  That was foreign territory to a love child of the 60’s, but sweeter and sweeter as the years went by.  It was only through this long, often painful, process that I fully understood the meaning of marriage vows, the sacred nature of a marriage, and its importance as the cornerstone, the indispensable and fundamental foundation of civilization as we know it

She knows best

Follow Her Lead

Your partner, your bride, knows how she can best deal with her breast cancer.  In Shirley’s case, she opted for minimal information from day one.  She chose to rely on Dick Hollister and Joe Murphy to let her know how she was doing in the simplest of terms.  Good or bad blood count, for example, not the numbers, not analysis.

There is no “right” way or “wrong” way.  It is her way, her journey, her path. Some patients with cancer try to become oncologists in a heartbeat, reading, reading, and reading more medical literature.  Seeking out more and more information, perhaps seeking second, third, and fourth opinions.  Others may rely on their physician, a man or woman dedicated to healing and life, to be their coach and guide them through the process.  Whatever path you choose is the right path for you.

Shirley was the Joe Friday of cancer patients, asking for the facts, nothing but the facts.  And keep it short and simple.  Shirley did not feel a need to hear or be given all the numbers from her ongoing testing, retesting, and testing again.  She chose to rely on her physicians, particularly Dick and Phil and their staff, to keep her current with the simplest of terms.  Was a blood count good or bad, for example?  She did not need or want to hear the numbers.  She did not want to analyze her situation.  We knew, she knew, that she was “playing for all the marbles,” so the outcome was critical, not the steps in the process of survival.

Other women may opt to become overnight medical students or aspiring physicians, trying to learn in an instant what a physician has studied and absorbed over eight years or more.  For Shirley and for me, despite my being a clinical social worker and a “health care professional,” simple was best.  A sound physician-patient relationship is built on mutual respect and trust.  It enhances your healing.  Trust the coach and run the play.

You are not alone

Cry

Real men cry.  Real men feel.  A good cry is cleansing for the heart, mind and soul.  When Shirley’s mother, Marge, and I went home after taking Alison to school, we held on to each other for dear life and wept, inconsolably.  We each needed to let out the pent-up feelings of anger, helplessness and fear.  She feared the loss of a child, her eldest, and her only daughter.  I feared the loss of my bride, my partner, my lover, the mother of my one and only child, Alison, who was then just 3 years old.  I feared becoming a single parent.  How could I, a man, possibly raise a girl, bring her through the formative years and adolescence into adulthood?  Was I going to have to date again to find a mother for my daughter, oh, what a wretched, frightening thought.

During the first days after surgery, then over the weeks and on into months, I often found myself alone in the car, driving home, heading to work, whatever. I would be overcome by fear, which was really a lack of faith.  Fear and faith cannot co-exist.  When emotions hit full blast, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably, tears running down my face, sobs racking my body.

But are there not positive images of men facing loss and pain?  There is the classic Frenchman with tears streaming down his face when Nazis occupied Paris.  Do not men in battle cry when a comrade falls? Crying releases your pent up emotions: anger, fear, sadness, pain, and denial.  Crying is a safety valve, a mini volcano releasing the pressures from deep with-in your soul and being.  Cry.  You feel.  You are hum-an and graced. 

Hug a friend and cry on his or her shoulder. That hug lends understanding, strength and comfort. 

AATH 2006 Book of the Year

Humor Heals

Norman Cousins taught the country this lesson about the healing power of humor many years ago and we are often reminded of this truth. We know that the act of laughing is healing.  It makes us feel better and helps us get better.  It is very easy to take ourselves in particular, our careers, and our work much too seriously. 

Close friends have experienced our occasional over-the-top, out of control laughing, true guffaws, and sometimes snorting.  Does anything feel better?  You cannot laugh while feeling sorry for yourself.  Seeing the humor in any situation brings relief and release.  Did you hear about the drunk who got a “speeding” ticket after passing out at the wheel of his car? A tragedy when it happened, yes.  Being able to laugh at the incident in hindsight brings understanding and relief.  Our favorite apocryphal joke is about hitting a pig, reporting the accident anonymously and getting a ticket in the mail for $500.  And how did they find us, you ask: “The pig squealed.”

Shirley set the stage for our approach to her treatment for breast cancer, which included large doses of humor from day one.  As she was wheeled in for her first mastectomy, laying on a gurney just outside the operating room, she looked up and said to her surgeon, Phil McWhorter:  “Hey, Phil, you ought to charge me half price.  I’m pretty small.”  She was the epitome of courage, strength, and fortitude.  She was then and is today a winner. 

A year later in 1983, Shirley suggested to the hospital’s then President & CEO that she was being over charged for her mammogram, that she should get a 50% discount. After all, they only had to take a single x-ray image, not two.  What’s fair is fair.  She left him speechless.  It just makes sense to me.

And there was her relationship with her oncologist, Dick Hollister, and his incredible office staff.  Do you realize that over 95% of cancer treatment takes place in a physician’s private office, not in a hospital? If you choose to work in oncology, you know from the get go that at least 50% of your patients will die as a result of their disease.  And yet Dick and his staff always provided hope, comfort, and, best of all, large doses of laughter and humor. 

Dick made the choice to become a doctor and treat patients with cancer at age 13 according to his mother, at age 11 according to him.  He was the perfect match for Shirley, who turned him bright red (fairly easy given his red-head’s freckled complex-ion), when she whipped out her temporary breast prosthesis during his first visit to her hospital room.  He was speechless.  He knew he had a live one, despite the poor prognosis.  Shirley was an interesting and challenging case for a new oncologist in his first few years of practice.  Jokes were a staple in his office during the course of our year of treatment.  Humor is healing to body, mind, and spirit.

Ask and it shall be given

Say “Yes” to Help

We all know the classic joke about Moses and the tribes of Israel wandering for 40 years in the desert after their miraculous escape from bondage in Egypt.  It took 40 long years to reach the land of milk and honey, the Promised Land.  And why, why did it take so long?  Moses was a man.  He refused to ask for directions.  Ten Commandments, maybe; asking for help, never.

If you’re married or even dated a man for any length of time, you’ve spent time in a car lost.  You suggest, perhaps timidly and quietly, that it might be a good idea to stop and ask for directions.  He is offended.  He, after all, is a man.  He has a good, no, a great sense of direction.  That will become apparent to you, a mere woman with no sense of direction, momentarily.  The moments tick by.  He is becoming exasperated.  Finally, in disgust, he pulls into a gas station and asks for help.  It pains him to do so.

Louise Crisafi taught me to accept help when I asked her what to do knowing that Shirley and I were facing her cancer together, a cancer we had little hope of beating.  Her advice was powerful, wise, and insightful.  When someone, anyone, asks if they can do anything to help, just say: “Yes.”  Friends, neighbors, colleagues and others want to be there for you and for themselves.  I know, I know.  You’re a man and never ask for help, not even simple directions.  Understand that the people asking to help need your “Yes” as much as you.  It gives them some sense of being able to do something positive about this insidious disease that seems beyond their control.  They want to do something, anything.

Shirley and I were blessed.  We did not have to cook a meal for 3-4 months following her 1982 surgery thanks to the chicken dishes, casseroles, lasagnas and other assorted goodies constantly flowing to our front door.  Need a brief childcare stint for our daughter, Alison? It would be there.   

Thank you in particular First Congregational Church in Old Greenwich.  You are a healing church.  Thank you special Friends of Bill, particularly Betsy, a mentor and counselor, who together taught me I could get through anything, even this. You were and are true friends to the present day.  Your love, prayers and support made a difference for all three members of our family.  You got us through both of these cancers and life’s travails one day at a time.

Bottom line? Ask for help. Accept help. Say “yes” when it’s offered.  You’ll be better for it and so will those seeking to be of service.

Avoid being a caricature of a man

Be Faithful.  Be Monogamous.

We do not hear espoused or celebrated often enough the value and benefits of faithfulness, fidelity and monogamy. Nor do we hear of the sacred nature of marriage and its profound role in the social contract. A long term, monogamous relationship is exquisitely intimate.

An acquaintance, a woman, said of my espousing faithfulness and monogamy: “How quaint,” as in charming, old fashioned, unusual or unfamiliar, even strange. And then I look at our role models, Shirley’s late parents, Art and Marge Billings, married for more than 69 years.  That is the goal. We find in it our deepest nature, our essential and fundamental selves.  We become acutely perceptive of each other in a relationship that is intense and keen.  It is as delicate and beautiful as a snowflake, as hard and lustrous as a diamond.

As a man, you will understand with certainty that your wife truly completes you in every way: physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  You owe it to her and yourself to develop the depth of understanding brought on only by being faithful for life.  God meant us as marriage partners to be one together for life.  Swans do it, so can we.

Louise Crisafi points me in the right direction

Tell Her You Love Her

In a marriage or any intimate relationship, silence is not golden.  The strong silent type need not apply for the position of husband, lover, best friend, confidante, caregiver, and supporter of a woman with breast cancer.  Your bride, your wife, your partner needs and wants to hear from you.  Actions may speak louder than words, and you may take all the right actions, but speaking words brings comfort, reassurance, and knowledge of your inner feelings.  She cannot read your mind.  Being there for her is more than physical or economic security.  Words have meaning.  And the three most important words in the English language at this time, at this moment, when together you face her mortality, are: “I love you.”

The late Louise Crisafi, a saint here on Earth, always giving of herself for others in need, taught me this lesson on the Friday Shirley had her biopsy and was diagnosed, having opted for what was  then a new two-step process. This meant we knew on Friday that she would have a mastectomy on Monday, a weekend together, scared, anxious, frightened.  For Shirley, confronting death and permanent loss of part of her womanhood.  For me,  just at a loss and floundering, not knowing what to do or what to say.

Louise was an American Cancer Society Reach to Recovery volunteer, as well as a YWCA Encore volunteer leader, devoted to helping other women facing breast cancer diagnosis and treatment.  She was a good friend and confidante.  When I asked Louise what to do feeling as helpless and overwhelmed as I was, she said simply: “Tell her you love her.”  I was off to the races.  I spent the weekend saying those magic, powerful words over and over, as frequently as possible, perhaps more than I had done in weeks, months or years previously.

A year or so later in a television talk show featuring three women with breast cancer, including Louise, Shirley reminisced about how verbal I had become that fateful first weekend.  Those words brought comfort and made a difference.  Say “I love you.”  It works.  And I hope I do so as much or more today.

The journey together begins

Our Family Odyssey: A Journey Together

Our family’s incredible healthcare odyssey began in the summer of 1982 in Winter Harbor, Maine, when Shirley took part in a hokey Lobster Festival parade.  She felt something in her right breast, attributed it to a pulled muscle from aerobics in the parade, or perhaps the lumpy horse hair mattresses we slept on and made love on.  Her woman’s intuition knew better, but denial is powerful. 

The inexorable movement toward diagnosis and treatment began in the Fall, starting with her internist, Jeffrey Weinberger, then a local gynecologist, followed by a man who was about to become her surgeon, Phil McWhorter, a superb physician. The final step was seeing her oncologist, Dickerman Hollister, Jr., a Renaissance man who, along with the late Joseph Murphy, her radiologist and radia-tion therapist, ultimately saved her life.

The initial diagnosis was devastating.  “We’re too young.  I don’t want her to die.  I can’t live without her.”  The Kubla Ross five stages set in: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. “ I do not want to be a single Dad raising a child, a little girl, on my own.  God did not mean for it to be that way. “ And yet that’s what we seemed to be facing or I was feeling.

Shirley knew from her conversations with Phil and Dick that she had close to the worst scenario possible:  extensive lymph node involvement, an aggressive metastatic form of breast cancer with a very poor prognosis.  Phil punched me in the gut with his words following her surgery: “The tumor was too large and too deep into the chest wall for me to remove it completely.” 

Shirley would need extensive chemotherapy, horm-one therapy and radiation treatment.  The world was turning dark.  A year or so following her surgery, Shirley commiserated with former First Lady Betty Ford on the dance floor at a charity ball in New York.  That was when I first learned of or was able to take in that many, many lymph nodes were involved.  I never shared Phil’s words with her until years later.

Our first sit down together with Dick Hollister was a moment to remember.  We were “playing for all the marbles.” Did we want to save Shirley, maybe, highly unlikely, or did we want to leave open the option of additional children in the future?  Our joint response took a nanosecond.  Dick walked us through his pro-posed regimen or course of treatment: six months of chemotherapy and hormone therapy, followed by six weeks of radiation therapy, and then another six months of the same strong chemotherapy and hormone therapy.  He also offered us sources for second opinions in New York or Boston, followed by telling us he would take our case and his proposed treatment protocol to Yale-New Haven Hospital for re-view. It was a no brainer for both of us then, and even now in retrospect.

Medicine is built  on relationship and trust.  A good physician is still a hands-on healer, despite all the technology and resources to be brought to bear.  We opted for Dick. We opted for and received life. Precious, precious, life and health

What's in store in the next few weeks

Prayer, Laughter & Broccoli
Being There When Your Wife Has Breast Cancer

Contents

Our Odyssey

Tell Her You Love Her

Be Faithful.  Be Monogamous.

Say “Yes” to Help

Humor Heals

Cry

Follow Her Lead

Being There

I Love You, Not Your Breasts

Go to Her Appointments

Let Her Know You’re There for the Long Haul

Help With Your Child or Children

Eat Your Broccoli

Cook A Meal

Remember Pregnancy Cravings?  They’re Back

Be Available by Phone

She Is Not An Invalid

Take Over on Chemotherapy Nights

You Can Make A Goof.  Do Not Buy Her A Scarf or Head Covering

Learn From Prostitutes

Another Lesson From Prostitutes

Pray

She Is Your Trophy Wife

Use Complementary or Alternative Medicine

Use the Serenity Prayer

Lemonade From Lemons

Anger

One Day At A Time

Avoid Doom and Gloom

Have Fun

She Is Not Damaged Goods

Chivalry Is Not Dead

Read Proverbs

Psalms for Health and Healing

Be Trustworthy

Be A Good Listener

Take Her to Treatments

Bring Her Home if She Wants to Be Home

What You Say

Believe In Miracles

Bride for Life

Pay It Forward

Be Passionate About Life

Enjoy the Mundane

Chemotherapy

Radiation Therapy

Hormone Therapy

You Are Both A Miracle

Synchronicity

Thoughtful Gifts

Speak Up for Her and for You

Good Patient, Bad Patient

Mastectomy, Lumpectomy and Reconstruction

Sex After Breast Cancer

Alive

Support Groups
BRCA Testing
Epilogue

Reflections by Alison Flierl

Growth

Scared

A Daughter’s Letter Home
Notes from November 8-9, 1982

Acknowledgements - family, friends, church

Acknowledgements 

I would like to thank my sister, Margaret Bennett, who is also a breast cancer survivor, for her love and friendship since we were children together, and for her insights, support and encouragement during all of life’s travails, and, in particular, during my initial writing of this book and now  with its updating.

Our family would like to acknowledge the love and support of many special friends and people who have helped us over the bumps and still enrich our lives.  This includes friends like Lucy Hedrick, Frank and Ellen Schigg, Bill and Jackie Hammock, Steve and Winnie Legere, Jan Durgin, and Phyllis Finn. First Congregational Church and our friends and colleagues in 1982 saw to it that we did not have to cook a meal from scratch for months after the start of Shirley’s treatment, nor did we lack for child care. We remain grateful.

Shirley and I are both grateful for the special love, comfort and support of Dr. Bartel Crisafi and his first wife, the late Louisie Crisafi, who together set the standard for loving and living as a couple raising a family.  Louise is a guardian angel up there looking after us.

Most of all, I want to thank my wife, Shirley Ann, and my daughter, Alison, for everything. They are my life.

October 3, dedicated to Shirley Ann - Wife, Mother

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Shirley Ann Billings Flierl, my bride and my life partner, the mother of our daughter, Alison, my lover, my business partner, and my best friend.  Shirley was first diagnosed with an aggressive Stage 3 breast cancer when she was “too young” and “too small” and at a time when we had so much to live for.  It was her courage, faith, humor, persistence and joy that brought Alison and me through this experience whole and better for it. 

 

We are commemorating and celebrating the miracle of Shirley’s survival and recovery for 30 years as of November 8, 2012. We are bringing  our family story forward to share her recovery and survival of a second breast cancer in 2010. She has again led the charge as together as a family we faced this second breast cancer, a new tumor, not a recurrence. Alison and I are blessed to have this extraordinary woman, wife and mother in our lives.

 

Day 2 of sharing our experience, strength and hope

Prayer, Laughter & Broccoli

Being There When Your Partner Has Breast Cancer

Peter J. Flierl, MSW

Alison Billings Flierl

Editor & Contributor

ISBN: 978-0-9745179-8-8

Grindstone Press

Greenwich ● Los Angeles

Copyright © 2003 Peter Flierl

Revised & Reprinted 2012

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher. Printed in the United States of America.  For information or comments, address Grindstone Press, 14 Le Grande Avenue, Suite 14, Greenwich, CT 06830