Jim's Story - Being a husband and father when your wife has breast cancer

Laura and the kids

My wife, Laura, was diagnosed with Her2 + Stage IV metastatic breast cancer in 2011. The shock of the news was so great we couldn’t drive home. We were paralyzed by fear and sadness. I clearly remember walking through the lunchtime crowds of Bloor Street and telling Laura: “Hold me close. I want to get in a fist fight”. It was as though the pain of being punched in the face would somehow distract me from the terror and sadness inside of me. I think we both knew at that moment that our lives were forever changed.   

Laura is the main breadwinner in our family. She’s the rock. I am an artist - my career was taking off but the ceiling was a bit on the low side when it came to earning potential. What was I going to do? How would I look after the kids if she were gone? For the first time in my life I felt the true weight of being a father. I knew what I had to do and I did it. I grew up.

Immediately and without question I put my career on hold. Major creative projects which required my full focus, attention and joy were put on the back burner or forgotten about. I worked minimally and centred my schedule around Laura. She would frequently thank me for coming to all of her chemo sessions and medical appointments with her. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.  

Me

This time together was a bittersweet gift. Throughout Laura’s treatment, we enjoyed more time alone together than we had in ages. Even though cancer treatment became a full time job for us, we had a lot of fun, laughing, taking long walks together and going on “cancer dates” to Princess Margaret Hospital. Laura and I had never been closer.

And yet, never in my life have I ever felt so scared and so alone. One night, I lay on the floor and just cried. Friends tried to give me comfort; my parents, reassurance. But several people couldn’t handle it when I answered their “So how are you doing?” honestly. One friend dismissed my fears and sadness outright when I expressed that I was suffering. Apparently I had to “be strong” for Laura and the kids - which in her mind meant not feeling or sharing my burden with her. I found that instead of being strong for my family, I had to be strong for a society that doesn’t like to face the reality of serious illness.  

Rethink Breast Cancer’s Support Saturdays program, which provides support to young families dealing with breast cancer, allowed me to take comfort in the presence of other men who had walked a similar path as me. I can’t even begin to explain how difficult it is to support your dearest love through her cancer journey. Together, we shared our similar stories of being dads wanting to fix things.  

Our Family

As a parent with two young children I witnessed another wonderful present.  Luella - our now five-year-old daughter - could play with other children her own age with moms that were sick, who had lost all of their hair, and who at times were tired and afraid. This helped normalize our post-cancer lives for her. She felt safe and her behaviour became less moody and erratic at home.  

The gift that Support Saturdays gave to me was time for a coffee, and some dudes to talk with one minute about surfing, the next about fear, loss or just how damn hard it is to sit and watch your wife suffer and not be able to do a thing about it. At Support Saturdays I felt visible and profoundly understood. It was a humbling and empowering experience for me. I’m grateful that Rethink Breast Cancer and all its generous supporters provided our family with such a gift.  

Laura finishing chemo

I wanted to save Laura from cancer - with COQ10, Astralagus and Kale salad. Every morning I would get up early so Laura would be greeted by fed and clothed children and a pint of magical juice composed of (all organic)  kale, celery, cabbage, carrots and every other vegetable that may or may not have demonstrated to have anticancer properties. The secret ingredient in my magical juice was, of course, love.

I know this is completely irrational, but this is what I wanted to do. When Laura was in chemo, the pain of watching her suffer - physically, mentally and emotionally - was almost too much for me to bear. If I could have had cancer for her, I would have. I’ve learned to accept (but not like) that there are just some things I can’t do.

Today, the threat seems to have passed. Laura’s post-operative follow up appointment last summer revealed, “The tissues extracted demonstrate a complete response to chemotherapy. You currently have no evidence of disease.”  I wept at the news.  

I’m no longer bristling for a fight. Here and now, Laura and I have each other. Here and now, life is normal - more or less. I appreciate and celebrate my time with her a bit more. We’re closer than we’ve ever been. Here and now is the present and being present with each other, here and now, is our greatest gift.

-  Jim

If you and your family would like to take part in Support Saturdays please email support@rethinkbreastcancer.com

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