Today and yesterday have been especially hard. We knew it would be, based on how things went the last cycle at this point, but knowing a difficult time is coming doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to get through it when it hits.

We just completed Cycle 2, Week 1 – which means B went through 5 days of intense, 6-7 hour days at the hospital for his infusions.

B’s current struggles.

On these weeks, by the time Thursday, Friday and Saturday come around, Brandon’s chemo symptoms are at an all time high. He is SO exhausted, he has no energy, he can’t get enough sleep, and his mind is foggy. All of these things make him really, really sad. And for good reason!

B slept 12.5 hours last night and he still woke up tired. That’s draining not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. The poor guy just wants to wake up feeling rested. And instead, he wakes feeling miserable and depressed.

After a nice brunch this morning consisting of coffee, scrambled eggs, bacon and avocado (all Whole 30, his new diet) he got a short burst of energy. Per his suggestion, we ran a 30 minute errand and once we got home – bam, he was wiped out again. So he laid down in his recliner and took an hour long nap.

He’s currently at his lowest white blood cell count for the cycle meaning (obviously) his immune system is weak and vulnerable. He’s pretty paranoid about getting sick and as you can imagine, it’s not fun walking around with the fear of germs. Especially if your life kinda depends on it.

My current struggles.

Watching B feel horrible is heartbreaking. Even if it only lasts 48-72 hours. I wish I could take it away. I would do anything to give him all my energy and to see a smile on his face.

My husband is nearby, but out of it. It’s Saturday, but the days of the week don’t really mean anything anymore. We can’t do our usual weekend activities together like hikes and house projects. So instead, a good chunk of these days are just me doing mundane life stuff, solo. Laundry, cleaning the house, cooking, and taking care of Elliot. Oh and I worked a few hours too. Today I felt lonely. And yesterday too actually.

This is all temporary, and we totally get that, but we’re in the thick of it right now and it’s not fun. Based on our previous experience, B should be feeling better tomorrow or Monday, and I’m ever so grateful that this is short lived. Ugh. We’re almost through the worst of it.

Majority of the time if you ask me how I’m doing in the midst of Brandon’s cancer treatment, I say, “Pretty good actually!” And majority of the time, if you ask B how’s he’s doing he says, “Mmm, I’m doing okay/good.” But none of this is a walk in the park, and I felt compelled to blog about our ever present low.

On a different, but still relevant note, if you didn’t already know this about us, the Riggs love music. Of all genres! (For the most part.) We have playlists for everything. We have vacation playlists, a birthday playlist, a 4th of July playlist, an Elliot playlist, our 10 year anniversary playlist, and yes – you guessed it, a cancer playlist. Music speaks to our souls and on many occasions we turn to it for whatever we might be going through, both good and bad.

So I’ll wrap up this post with a song that we both really resonate with right now. It is so beautiful. There’s a woman singing about strength and support for her guy, and a man sharing his struggles of what he’s going through. It truly couldn’t be more applicable to this chapter of our lives and it brings to me tears every. single. time. I hope you enjoy the lyrics below. Get your kleenex out and if you really want to feel the heart of the song look it up and give it a listen.

I’ll Find You by Lecrae.

Just fight a little longer my friend
It’s all worth it in the end
But when you got nobody to turn to
Just hold on, and I’ll find you
I’ll find you
I’ll find you
Just hold on, and I’ll find you

I’m hanging on by a thread
And all I’m clinging to is prayers
And every breath is like a battle
I feel like I ain’t come prepared
And death’s knockin’ on the front door
Pain’s creepin’ through the back
Fear’s crawlin’ through the windows
Waiting for em’ to attack
They say “Don’t get bitter, get better”
I’m working on switching them letters
But tell God I’mma need a whole lotta hope keeping it together
I’m smilin’ in everyone’s face
I’m cryin’ whenever they leave the room
They don’t know the battle I face
They don’t understand what I’m going through

The world tryna play with my soul
I’m just tryna find where to go
I’m tryna remember the way
I’m tryna get back to my home
But, I can’t do this on my own
That’s why I’m just trusting in you
Cuz’ I don’t know where else to go
And, I don’t know what else to do

Just fight a little longer my friend
It’s all worth it in the end
But, when you’ve got nobody to turn to
Just hold on, and I’ll find you
Just fight a little longer my friend
It’s all worth it in the end
But, when you’ve got nobody to turn to
Just hold on, and I’ll find you
I’ll find you
I’ll find you
Just hold on, and I’ll find you
I’ll find you
I’ll find you
Just hold on, and I’ll find you

They say fear haunts
And pain hates
I say pain strengthens
And fear drives faith
And I don’t know all of the outcomes
Don’t know what happens tomorrow
But when that ocean of doubt comes
Don’t let me drown in my sorrow
And don’t let me stay at the bottom
I feel like this hole is too deep to climb
I’ve been lookin’ for a way out
But I’ll settle for a peace of mind
Picking up the pieces of my life and hopin’ that I’ll put together something right
Tell me all I got is all I need
Tell me you gon’ help me stand and fight
The world trying to play with my soul
I’m just tryna find where to go
I’m trying to remember the way
I’m trying to get back to my home
But, I can’t do this on my own
That’s why I’m just trusting in you
Cuz’ I don’t know where else to go
And, I don’t know what else to do

No don’t let the fear
Make you feel like you can’t fight this on your own
You know I, I’ll be there for you no matter where you go
You’ll never be alone, no
Just fight a little longer my friend
It’s all worth it in the end
But, when you’ve got nobody to turn to
Just hold on, and I’ll find you
Just fight a little longer my friend
It’s all worth it in the end
But, when you’ve got nobody to turn to
Just hold on, and I’ll find you
I’ll find you
I’ll find you
Just hold on, and I’ll find you
I’ll find you
I’ll find you
Just hold on, and I’ll find you

Hey all. Lisa here. 

The other day Brandon mentioned the idea of having me doing a guest post on his blog, as all the pro bloggers do, and I said, “Yes, I’d love to!” So here we are.

I was trying to think about what to say, and decided to share a little bit about this experience from my end of things, the primary caretaker and wife’s perspective. Obviously, there’s SO much that we’ve been through and SO much that has happened in these last few months that it’s difficult to communicate it all in just one post, but I’d like to express some of the significant things that have stood out to me during our current circumstance. So let’s dive in.

I’ll start at the beginning. It was the evening of January 15th. B told me about the lump he found and I was trying my best to wrap my head around the news he just shared. I was in shock. I didn’t cry; I just sat there in our banquette as we finished dinner and talked through his discovery. We had a somber hour of processing what this might mean for us and our future and we allowed the potential possibilities of what was to come to sink in.

Once we finished our conversation for the time being, I excused myself to the bathroom and immediately googled “testicular cancer” to learn more. We had no clue what we were up against yet, but I wanted to educate myself on the worst case scenario.

It was a brief time of research as I didn’t want Brandon to know what I was up to in the bathroom, but I quickly read that the survival rate was 95% for testicular cancer. I checked another website and again, 95% survival rate. I checked a few more sources and the same statistic continued to show up. Okay, I thought. That’s all I needed to hear.

I came out of the bathroom and Brandon was doing the dishes. The first thing he said to me in the kitchen was, “Please don’t google anything about this. I don’t think that would be beneficial for us to do at this time.” “Wellllllll,” I said. “I actually already did. Sorry about that…” [Insert the OOPS emoji here.] “Okay, no worries, he replied, “Please just keep that information to yourself.” And so I did.

Over the course of the next day, Brandon’s anxiety was through the roof. I knew his mind was whirling and going to dark places, and I was doing my best to show compassion, empathy and support. “I know you said you don’t want to hear anything from what I read, but I do have some information that I strongly believe will help put your mind at ease. I think it could be really helpful if I shared just this one thing if you’re open to hearing it.” He agreed and I told him the survival success rate for testicular cancer. He was grateful for the info, and I think it brought his anxiety down a smidge.   

Fast forward 2.5 weeks later. It’s Tuesday morning, February 5th. B had just had his urologist appointment the day before and got an ultrasound. This was going to tell us exactly what was going on inside his body. I was at Target with Elliot getting some essentials (you know, because I never buy anything extra at Target), and I received a text from Brandon. “Call me,” it read. So I immediately gave him a ring and upon answering he blurted out, “Meet me at home!” “Umm, okay…” I replied. “I’m currently at Target, but can leave right away. What’s going on? I want to know what you know and would prefer to not drive home to wait to find out.” (That would have been the longest 15 minutes of my life.) He explained that the doctor had called with the ultrasound results and that we were going straight in to meet with him. It was time to “talk about the next steps” as the doctor put it. We both knew what that meant. “You can tell your family now,” Brandon said as he had previously requested that I not tell anyone up to that point.

Phew. I can’t accurately describe what it was like to take that call. I honestly have no words. I went on to call my sister and my mom and those were the first two times I cried about any of this.

You all know what played out over the course of the next few weeks. B had surgery, stayed home to recover, got a CT scan and we waited. Oh the agony of waiting. As we all know, the results came back, and the cancer had spread. We had some big, very difficult decisions to make, but at the end of many excruciating conversations, chemotherapy was scheduled. We decided to wait two weeks with the doctor’s permission before B would start his treatment in order to soak up some final time of “normalcy” and fun. We were able to go on a few hikes, hit up a few of our favorite breweries, maximized our friend hang outs, and enjoyed a final pre-chemo date night.

Another activity we were able to squeeze in was a free “Together Against Cancer” 5 hour workshop put on by a therapist at UCSD who specializes in helping cancer patients and their partners. Along with 6 other couples, we were led through a time focused on learning tools to get through the cancer journey together. It was a powerful time for Brandon and I and we both left feeling very emotionally connected with one another and better equipped to take on what was about to begin. Below are a few of the most impactful things I took away from my time there.

1) How to support Brandon best. Thanks to almost 15 years of marriage I feel that I have a good understanding of Brandon’s needs and how to love and support him best, however, adding cancer to the mix takes showing up for him to a whole new level. And I wanted to do just that. I was reminded that the thing I could do best for Brandon is to simply just be present. Day in and day out, he doesn’t need me to talk, he doesn’t need me to do, he just needs me to be. As I type this, a classic Winnie the Pooh and Piglet exchange comes to mind that couldn’t exemplify this any better.

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh” he whispered. “Yes, Piglet?” “Nothing” said Piglet taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

2) The next thing I took away was recognizing what I am going through. The workshop leader emphasized that the caretaker essentially “has cancer too” and it was so affirming to hear this. She reminded us that while it isn’t my physical body that’s fighting this battle, I too am taking on the stress and emotions and ups and downs every step along the way. It was very valuable and reassuring for me to hear this. It helped give me permission to take care of myself through all of this too. This is something I already struggle with so I really needed to hear that. 

3) Lastly, we closed our time with going around the circle and making a “moving forward” statement. The therapist encouraged us to say, “Goodbye” to something we wanted to rid of and “Hello” to something we wanted to introduce. I said, “Goodbye to leaning on my strong independence and hello to giving myself grace and accepting help.” 

The next thing I’d like to touch on is my time at the hospital as it has been a very eye opening experience. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a cancer treatment center before, but prior to a month ago, I hadn’t. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, I was pretty naive about the entire world surrounding cancer and cancer patients. Of course you know these centers exist, and of course you know people around the world are battling cancer every minute of everyday, but as with pretty much anything difficult in life, you don’t fully grasp the depth and the weight and vastness of the adversity until you’ve gone through it first hand. If you or one of your loved ones have ever gone through cancer before, you get it. This new exposure to something that we hear about so much hit me pretty hard. In the center, there’s a strange mix of sadness and hope, rallying and optimism, renewed energy and utter fatigue. All these people of every race and age are in the bays around us. A good portion of them don’t have hair (just like Brandon), a good portion of them wear doctor masks as their immune systems are compromised due to the chemo drugs (just like Brandon), and ALL of them are going through the same thing Brandon is going through at some level. They are fighting to survive. They are fighting to beat cancer. While we haven’t spoken to many of the other patients here, being surrounded by them is somehow comforting to me. It makes me want to go around to each one of them and squeeze their hand and tell them I understand them a little bit better than I used to.

Lastly, I will say this. Actually, I’d like to shout it from the rooftops. We MADE IT THROUGH CYCLE ONE and Brandon is continuing to DO THIS! We are doing this. We are on week 4. We started with 63 days and we are down to 37 days. I couldn’t be more proud of Brandon for pushing through his new reality, the lows, the anxiety, the restlessness, the roller coaster of emotions. He is waking up every day and is leaning into all of this. Not with perfection, not even with excellence at times, but as best as he can. And not only is he going through the motions to get through this, he is actively taking steps and seeking out how to cope with all of this in the most healthy way he knows how.

And that takes courage.

As I wrap this post up, I’d like to leave you with something I read week 1 that’s stitched on a quilt and hangs in the cancer treatment waiting room. I love it so much.

What cancer CANNOT do.

Cancer cannot erase memories. 
Cancer cannot kill friendship. 
Cancer cannot cripple love. 
Cancer cannot steal humor. 
Cancer cannot shatter hope. 
Cancer cannot invade the soul. 
Cancer cannot conquer the spirit. 
Cancer cannot destroy peace. 
Cancer cannot erode confidence. 
Cancer cannot stifle laughter. 
Cancer cannot corrode faith. 
Cancer cannot silence courage. 

#teamrigg #riggstrong