Really Long Post, but PLEASE READ

iVillage Member
Registered: 07-21-2004
Really Long Post, but PLEASE READ
6
Wed, 10-19-2005 - 1:57pm
Wow. This is hard. And I hardly know where to begin. So I guess I'll just start at the beginning. I'm 31 years old, and I live and work in New York City. For the sake of background: when I was 13, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Disease, which was discovered while still Stage 1. Thanks to surgery to remove two lymph nodes and radiation, I went into full remission.
16 years later, I was a happy single girl, aged 29, having a somewhat "Sex and the City" like existence, though with far fewer Cosmopolitans and sexual partners. But life was good. I'd been in love twice, had my heart broken twice, and survived twice. I felt confident and happy with who I was and where I was going. I wasn't even really looking for love. But of course, you know the old saying about a watched pot doesn't boil…as soon as I wasn't anticipating anything, something happened.
One of my best girlfriends is a regular at a neighborhood bar, and that's where I was the night I met Tom. He was a 28-year-old NYC Firefighter. His firehouse lost their entire truck-- 6 guys-- on 9/11, but he was a probie (rookie) at the time and hadn't been assigned to his house until after the Trade Center Attacks. Of course, there was some degree of hero worship when I first met him-- a young man so devoted to saving others, despite the risks that had by now been made all too real to the world-- was intensely appealing. But beyond that, Tom and I struck up a conversation the first night we met, and when I finally looked at my watch, I couldn't believe that three hours had passed. On the one hand, we couldn't have been more different: I grew up in a wealthy family, have travelled around the world and went to college in England. Tom is from one of the outer-borroughs of NYC, from a long line of firefighters, and is as rough-and-tumble as they come. But in other ways, it was like we'd always known each other. Both us have divorced parents, both of us are only children, both of us grew up watching way too much TV and can recite dialogue from nearly every episode of any sitcom that aired in the 80's. We made each other laugh, a lot, and I found myself feeling incredibly fortunate just to have met Tom, even if we never became anything more than friends.
But, of course, we became much more than that. Long phone calls lead to long dinners which lead to long nights together and then ,long weekends. For a while, we did the dance that, I'm afraid, many battle-weary couples do at first-- I'm sure you all know the steps: "Let's keep it casual," and "I don't need to know where this is going" and "I just want to have a good time." Before long, though, the inevitable questions did pop up: "Is this more than just casual?" and "Where is this going?" and "Are we just looking for a good time or is this something more?" Surprisingly, he asked these questions as much as I did. I knew, on some level, that there were probably other girls-- probably many-- who were very interested in him. And, personally, I had a few guys still in my rotation. But there was no question about where my heart truly lay, and it was with Tom. When he finally raised the proposition of becoming "exclusive" after we'd been seeing each other for around six months, I was thrilled. We've been together ever since.
And, seriously, I'm not trying to send anyone into diabetic shock, but the past year that we've been together has been unbelievable. I love his family, his friends, his colleagues at the firehouse. We pretty much never argue, except for silly squabbles that usually end with us laughing at each other. We make each other better. Shortly before our one year anniversary last month, I was going through Tom's sock drawer looking for a pair of socks to wear with my sneakers that wouldn't be too huge and I found it: the ring. I closed the drawer quietly and I didn't let on about what I'd found. But now I had something pretty big to look forward to. I also had another big day on the horizon: a follow-up MRI, a scan that most cancer "survivors" become intimately familiar with as they continually seek reassurance that cancer hasn't crept back into our lives. I was having a different kind of test this time, more thorough, called a Spiral CT.
Though Tom knew of my health problems when I'd been younger, when it came to the current tests, MRIs, etc. that I still underwent, I'd happily settled into a form of denial: "If I don't talk about it, it doesn't exist." But the morning after the CT scan, my carefully crafted ignorance broke into a million pieces. There were multiple shadows in my lungs, and two clearly visible tumors along my spine. And, the lump I'd been feeling along my armpit wasn't, actually, a "blocked sweat gland" as I'd told myself. It was the telltale sign of what I've come to understand is, essentially, an evil bitch: a form of cancer called high-grade fibrosarcoma. At best, I'll be able to battle this into remission before it inevitably reoccurs in some new, more invasive fashion. I may have 10 years. But they will be filled with a lot of hard fighting.
And so, I finally had to sit down and tell Tom all this. And here's where the real trouble starts, because I know some of you who are reading this (if anyone has been able to read this far) will vehemently disagree with what I did next. I broke up with him. Tom can't marry me. He wants to have kids-- and after all the chemotherapy I'm about to go through, there's no way that's a possibility. Tom is 29 years old. I don't want him to have to spend one minute of his life in a hospital ward, or around sickness and chemo. He faces death every day when he goes to work: he shouldn't have to go home to it. This isn't what I want for him, and deep down, I know no one would choose to commit themselves to someone who is about to go through hell and be irrevocably changed by it. There's a lot about Tom that's very traditional: he wants to have three or four kids (adoption isn't something he's too keen on; I mentioned it once vaguely, with regards to Angelina Jolie, and he made a face and said he'd rather be childless), he wants a happy, pretty wife to come home to every day, he wants to grow old with her. None of that is an option with me. So I told him I had to walk away.
He fought me every step of the way. He actually begged me not to do this. But I know that I can't do this-- can't fight what I have to go and fight-- and worry about everything I'm depriving him of, all the ways in which I'll be making him suffer. PLEASE understand: I will not be convinced that I'm wrong about this. Many of you may think I am: so be it. I found the strength to end this with Tom, to go on with my life and what it's about to become, and it's been a month since our final conversation. I'm here now, telling you all everything I just have, because even though I'm the one who did the breaking up, I'm still heartbroken. I'm scared and confused and afraid, of course-- and I have the much bigger picture, the big "C", to focus on. But I'm also just a girl who broke up with her boyfriend, a girl who misses him and feels sad and melancholy and who can't stop crying every time a sappy song comes on the radio. A girl who could use a few friends, even if they're just of the cyber-variety. Is there anyone out there who can lend a kind ear, a little support?
iVillage Member
Registered: 07-16-2003
Wed, 10-19-2005 - 11:08pm

Oh Sweetie, you have my ear and my support. I totally understand why you did what you did. I would have probably done the same thing. You have to focus on your health. It all seems very unfair. I am at a loss for word which is very unlike me. Your post was so eloquent and so touching! Feel free to email me as my user name is linked to my email address.

Lois

iVillage Member
Registered: 09-28-2005
Thu, 10-20-2005 - 12:16am

My heart goes out to you. I would of done the same thing. Please take care of yourself and I hope everything works out. You have my support also. Feel free to email me whenever you need a friend. I am having a hard time with my break up. I couldn't even imagine going through this along with the long and hard battle ahead of you. You are in my prayers.

Hugs

Nicole

iVillage Member
Registered: 09-06-2005
Thu, 10-20-2005 - 9:51am

i think it takes A LOT of strength, courage, and un-selfishness to do what you did. i can't say what i would do, because i can't even imagine how it feels to be in the situation you are...my heart, thoughts, and prayers go out to you. and i know that it still hurts and your heart can be broken in a million pieces even if you are the one who did the breaking up...i did the breaking up, and i was still extemely heart broken too, and still trying to heal. to go through a break up and mend a broken heart and spirit is hard enough to deal with, but to worry about your health on top of that...i can't imagine.

Take care.

iVillage Member
Registered: 07-21-2004
Mon, 10-24-2005 - 1:53pm
To everyone who responded to my post---
Thank you so much for your kind words and support. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Things are okay right now; I'm pretty much just taking everything one day, one battle, at a time. (Right now my life reminds me of a Far Side cartoon I saw once. The heading was: The Era of Decreased Expectations" and the drawing was a guy walking along, staring down at his feet, and thinking, "Any second now, that left foot should be coming into view! Oh boy!")
Honestly, sometimes it feels like my life with Tom happened to someone else-- that it was a whole other lifetime ago, filled with things I almost can't bear to let myself remember. Is anyone else experiencing that-- where you almost wish you DIDN'T remember the good times, because it's just too painful? It's like I wish I had nothing but bad memories, but now I can only think of good things, and I know that's going to be better in the long run, but right about now I wish I could forget it all.
But I haven't picked up the phone, haven't made any calls-- not even to his cellphone when I could be certain I'd get his voicemail. And I haven't rode my bike past the firehouse or anything like that, either. :-)
I almost feel like an alcoholic counting my days of sobriety-- this morning makes 39 days without him. With cancer, you're given all kinds of timelines-- X months without a recurrence means you have a good chance of being ok, Y years without a recurrence means you stand a better chance, etc. I wish there was some sort of heartache timeline, where it was like 3 months equals closure. Or something.
I hope everyone else is doing alright and hanging in there. I'd love to hear from any of you.
iVillage Member
Registered: 09-22-2005
Mon, 10-24-2005 - 2:32pm

I know I'm a little late, but my heart really goes out to you.

Nikki
iVillage Member
Registered: 07-21-2004
Mon, 10-24-2005 - 2:55pm
Hi there--
Thank you for writing; I can't tell you how much it lifts my spirits to hear from other people out there. I, too, believe in the no-contact rule... always have, actually-- whenever my friends would go through break-ups but would "keep in touch" with their exes, I knew it would only keep their heartache fresh. I've always been the one telling them to make their ex "dead to them", and now here I am having to practice what I preach: easier said than done!
But I'm doing it, and hopefully being able to come here will make it easier.
Thank you again for your kind words....