CANCER KILLS BUT SO CAN THE DEPRESSION IT BRINGS ALONG...(EXPERIENCES)

This is a very difficult subject for many. It is heartbreaking for me. I have lost two beloved brothers to cancer. Both were older than me by several years.  Not only did they suffer over a long period of time, not only did they go through painful treatments, but I had to see them depressed.

They weren't just depressed because of having cancer. Neither was the depression limited to the effects of the treatments. Please allow me to tell you of their experiences.

The first one to contract the dreaded disease was only in his mid-forties. The cancer was in his spine. It came on silently. He had back trouble for a long time, so he thought nothing was different until it was much too late. By the time he began receiving treatment, he knew the end was coming for him.

My brother had a wife and one child. His daughter was the love of his life. And he wouldn't see her grow up. The pain of this knowledge was more than the pain of his cancer. He lay in the hospital bed, unable to eat, and could only sleep with medication. Before long, the medication was not enough to ease his pain.

His wife, not using good judgment, came to him with the ordinary problems of life. She came to his hospital bed and complained about the plumbing, mortgage payments, insurance claims and other mundane things she should have just dealt with in his absence. That was going to fall to her soon anyway, and he could do nothing to help her. When he died, she received a large insurance settlement.

My wonderful, loving brother lay there and cried inside. He wanted to help his wife, but could not. He tried to comfort her, to say he would be home soon to work everything out. He wanted to go home to his young daughter. The depression kept him from being able to eat and sleep even when the medication to assist with the side effects of the cancer treatments was working.

We all tried talking with him, trying to encourage him to keep fighting the disease. His smile was so weak and wan, I could tell it was only a matter of time until he gave up. I was the last one of the family to travel a long distance to see him. I wanted to stay, to see it through until the end, hoping there would be no end to his life, only to the pain and cancer.

After my return home, I was called with the sad news that he was gone. He had made the comment to someone that now that he had seen me, he could go. The depression was not just his to deal with, but mine. He died on my birthday.

The second brother who developed cancer had a longer time to suffer. Cancer came first to him on the skin. It was due to exposure to chemical agents while in the military. The surgeon took it off, but it kept returning. On his handsome face, on his head and then the awful lung cancer.

Again the doctors treated with chemotherapy, surgery and kept telling him they had gotten it all. But the day came when they knew, with most of his lungs removed or taken over by the disease, the battle was lost. The cancer spread from his lungs throughout his entire body.

In his hospital bed, he tried to eat. He sat at the window, and had orange slices for breakfast. He fought the disease, and he fought the depression. He thought if he fought hard enough, he would be allowed to go home.

He had a wife, sons and grandchildren to visit and love. He had a pet he missed. His one last desire, knowing he was dying, was to go home. The doctors offered one more treatment, but he declined. He wanted to go home.

The lady came to see him. She came to discuss his comfort at home, who would come in to help him, to care for him and when. He was glad that she was arranging everything so his wife would have help caring for him. He was pleased that she would be able to go to work and leave him, knowing that he wouldn't be alone. And he would have his little dog to keep him company when no people were around.

But his wife decided she didn't want him to go home. She wanted him to stay where he was. She came in and told him that he was not going home. The depression he suffered after that was too great for him to endure. I saw him a few minutes after she told him he was not going home. I couldn't bear the hurt I saw in his eyes and the pain in his voice as he told me. His wife was taking away the one thing that had held him together so long.

I went to see him one last time before returning home. I told him that I had to go. We both knew I would not be seeing him again. He was so quiet, telling me he loved me and not to worry, but to take care of myself. Within two days, my wonderful, loving brother was dead. Depression was the final blow to his body and spirit.