SURVIVOR:
Nonfiction by Stephanie McClure
A WIDOW’S TALE OF STRENGTH
I
never dreamed of becoming a widow at 28 years of age. More than that, I never dreamed of being a widow with a six-year-old daughter to raise. My husband, Chuck, and I had just lived through a summer that, up until then, was the toughest time we had endured. Chuck’s grandmother was put on hospice and we came and spent the summer taking care of her in her final days. We spent our time making her comfortable, being together, and playing at the lake. He really enjoyed jumping from the cliffs. We thought life following her death would be easier. Chuck and I met when I was only nineteen. Chuck was nine years older than me with three daughters. My parents thought I was absolutely insane, yet they supported me fully. To me, it was a fairy-tale in the making. I didn’t think I was ready for love at such a young age, yet here I was. I became a wife and stepmother of three at a very young age. Two years later, we welcomed our daughter together. We spent the next nine years becoming one big, happy family. When his grandmother become ill, we knew we had to be there for her. He worked so hard to be make her final days happy and comfortable. He not only took care of her, but he also
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took care of her property. It was an exceptionally hot summer that year and he spent most of it outside. He did this regardless of the incredible headaches he began to endure. It became a daily thing and more intense. He didn’t really complain of anything else. The day came that we had to bury his grandmother. He promised me that once he bur-
“To me, it was a fairy-tale in the making.” ied her, he would have his headaches checked out, so we went to the ER. The medical staff did several scans and didn’t appear to be alarmed by anything. We never thought in a million years that it was anything more than a pulled muscle, and waited for the expected results. Unfortunately, we were wrong. The doctor came in and it took only a split second for things to get serious. I knew our lives were about to change. Standing in that hospital room, hearing the words out of the doctor’s mouth, was the scariest moment of my life: tumor, brain cancer, surgery, radiation, chemo. These were words we were
not expecting nor understanding. Apparently, medulloblastoma—his cancer—was mostly common in children. More hospital staff quickly came into the room and everything become a blur. Things after that seemed to move rather quickly. He had his first surgery that summer. They told us he would be ok and healthy, and he was out of the hospital a few days later. He was then back to work a few weeks later. We went on with life as normal. However, six months later, the headaches returned. He had his second surgery the following summer. Immediately after discharging from the hospital, the daily radiation treatments began, followed by chemo. Chemo was brutal to say the least. His immune system was so weak from all the treatments, and he became very ill very quickly. It was one thing after another. He was a strong healthy man, but the chemo just overpowered his body. I thought the shingles were going to be the worst of it. Little did I know what was soon to happen. We had a rough winter that winter. We had snow! He wanted to play outside with our daughter. Everyone had so much fun that day. Unfortunately, the days that followed brought on symptoms of pneumonia. I kept pressing him to let
ROOTS & REFLECTIONS
