When my wife Lynn was diagnosed with incurable stage 4 lung cancer, I was stunned. Lynn was a vibrant, youthful sixty-eight-year-old who moved through the world with a smile on her face. She didn’t smoke, walked everywhere, and swam sixty lengths in the Columbia University pool five times a week. How could this be?
That night we sat together in the kitchen, facing each other across the small table and holding hands. After all those years when we assumed we would quietly grow old together, suddenly our time had an end point, and the words came tumbling out. We stroked each other’s hands and said, “I love you” again and again. We said, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” We cried and smiled and cried again. And we wondered how much time we had left, and what we could do to get more of it.
Lynn lived for six more years, a journey of hope and discovery that I chronicled in my book Carrying the Tiger: Living with Cancer, Dying with Grace, Finding Joy while Grieving. My book is a Publishers Weekly “Editor’s Pick” that IndieReader called “a master class in facing life’s hardest moments with grace.” When we embarked on our journey, we had no idea what to expect. It never occurred to us that these would be the best years of our entire marriage, bringing us closer together and showering us with surprising lessons. Here are five of the most useful.
1) Sharing your story can yield big rewards
Many cancer patients keep quiet about their diagnosis, not wanting to burden their friends. Luckily, this never occurred to Lynn. Almost immediately, we set up a private website on CaringBridge.org where we posted updates about Lynn’s cancer. At the height of her treatment, almost 200 friends were reading our posts and replying with supportive comments. It was like having our own dedicated cheerleading squad, just when we needed one the most.
Equally important, many of our friends had experienced similar challenges, and they shared advice and experience that was more reliable than a random internet search. One of those suggestions connected us to a clinical trial that extended Lynn’s life by several years. If we hadn’t been open with our friends, she probably would have died much sooner.
2) Messy feelings are normal
Living with cancer can be embarrassing and confusing. For example, the drugs that kept Lynn alive caused unpredictable diarrhea, leading to several accidents in public places. At first, Lynn didn’t want to admit this to her friends, but when she did, they surprised her by being tremendously sympathetic (“Don’t worry about it, it happens”) and offering useful suggestions.
I had my own challenges, struggling to balance full-time caregiving with my full-time job, and found myself having thoughts that scared me, including “Maybe it would be better if Lynn died sooner rather than later,” and “I really miss being able to have sex the way we used to.” For months I didn’t dare share these feelings with anyone, but when I finally told Lynn, she surprised me by saying “I understand, really I do” and pulling me closer. I came to realize that when you are living through cancer, embarrassing events and unwanted feelings are a normal part of the process. They happen to everyone. Once you accept that, they lose their stranglehold over you, and you can get on with what needs to be done.
3) Laughter is the best drug
“It’s not the cancer that’s killing me, it’s the diarrhea,” said Lynn one morning. Then she made me promise not to tell anyone, because friends didn’t appreciate it when she joked about her cancer. But they should have! Sixty years ago, writer and thinker Norman Cousins pioneered the study of laughter in cancer treatment, and since then, it’s been shown that having a positive, even lighthearted attitude towards the elephant in the room can significantly improve your outcome.
Laughter comes easily to some cancer patients; others find it more elusive. But you can't go through life being serious all the time, especially when you are facing a terminal diagnosis. Lynn never used to watch much TV, for example, but after her diagnosis she loved to cuddle on the couch in the evening, laughing at some show or other. I think all that joy added years to her life.
4) Beauty, grace and joy travel with you
I’d read that when facing the end of your life you become more aware of the beauty and joy around you, but I was surprised to discover how true that is. During our journey, there were times when Lynn was in pain and we didn’t know whether this was the beginning of the end, as well as wonderful periods when she felt great and danced at parties until after midnight. But at every turn, we were fiercely aware that the clock was ticking, and this changed us. One of my fondest memories is from early 2020, when our city was shutting down for COVID. Every afternoon Lynn and I walked together in a nearby park, marveling at the miracle of spring coming on, bud by bud and leaf by leaf. We’d lived in this city for thirty years without ever paying that much attention to the natural beauty around us. Because of Lynn’s cancer we saw it as if for the first time.
5) Love really does last forever
Eventually the drugs stopped working and we decided to start home hospice. This was a terribly difficult decision, as the drive to keep living is very strong. But once we accepted that Lynn was going to die, we were able to relax and enjoy simply being together. During those final weeks we had some wonderful conversations, talking about what might lie ahead, and Lynn encouraged me to be open to new love, after she was gone.
This was a huge gift. In the months of shattering grief that followed, I was always aware of Lynn’s deep love for me. Yes, the memory of her love triggered many of my fiercest tears, but it also helped me get through even the worst days. And when I did begin to fall for another woman, Lynn’s encouragement carried me past my initial confusion and guilt.
That new relationship continues to this day, but I also carry Lynn securely in my heart. I’m always aware of my lasting love for her, and of the ways in which our journey together opened my eyes to the beauty and grace around us.
About the Author
Tony Stewart has made award-winning films for colleges and universities, written computer software that received rave reviews, designed a grants-management application that was used by three of the five largest charities in the world, and led the development of an international standard for the messages involved in buying and selling advertisements.
Tony and his late wife Lynn Kotula, a painter, traveled extensively in India and Southeast Asia, staying in small hotels off the beaten track and eating delicious food with their fingers when cutlery wasn’t available. Carrying the Tiger is his first book.
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