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Well, exactly one year ago I was laying in a room in the SECU house in Chapel Hill, watching District 9, contemplating the doctor’s appointment I would face with Evan the next day.  He was asleep beside me.  Addi was at our house three hours away with him mom.  We were going to find out what his new tumor was exactly–he had had a biopsy on July 10th and the results were in.  I was feeling overwhelmed and nervous and I wanted to write so I could have an outlet.  I wanted to create a voice for things I felt I couldn’t say and for things Evan couldn’t say or didn’t want to say (relaying news to family across the country was a rough task, let alone when you were dropping the C word left and right).

So, here it is one year later from restarting this blog and repurposing it.  I am sitting here now on a new couch in a new place.  A rescue dog is asleep beside me and Addi is asleep in the bedroom.  I have pictures now.  And memories.  And emotions.  I am so glad I have those memories and those pictures, but I wish I still had him.  Nothing makes this easier and sometimes when I look back on those moments it is harder because I am slammed with the reality that Evan was an amazing man, but he is no longer here.

It’s just a hard fact to have to face every time I open up and think about the memories.  I read something not long ago that said that hardest part about grieving and moving forward is that you want to live in the past. I feel so torn most of the time because that is true: the past holds my life with Evan, but I have our daughter, she is the present and the future…all I can do is try to find a balance

No snuggling to be had tonight unlike a year ago, unless it is with Addi, which at this particular moment sounds like a solid idea.  I remember cuddling to Evan and crying into his back while he slept.  I was so scared of the news we would get.  I was scared of what it would mean for him and for our family.  I was scared of exactly what happened but I never thought it would happen so soon.  Yet here I am.  Sitting on the couch, crying into his old NTI shirt.  So, on that note….happy blogiversary everyone…I’m calling it a night…


There is hope and there is help. Here’s to hoping it helps!

Now that I have had a few days to process the unavoidable news I am getting down to research.  I think this platform can help give information to people going through something similar, insight for those that are interested or maybe I can even get guidance here.  If nothing else it is a way to record our journey and Evan’s fight.  That is important to me.

So the to-do list is check into fertility help.  This has to get done before Evan starts chemotherapy.  I would say treatment, but he received radiation right before Addi was born.  Evan will become sterile due to his chemo and we want the option to add to our family.  We have a beautiful daughter that is 21 months old; we always wanted two.  I want her to have someone to help her go through life, aside from me.  I have a great older sister and I want Addi to experience that.  But, it doesn’t seem like now is a good time to get pregnant; however, we still want that option for the future.  Part of me thinks that having another child is unfair.  We didn’t want Addi to go through this or to even know Evan had cancer.  We thought radiation would do the trick and now she is going to have to grow up with it.  I am glad there are still options available for Evan to fight.  I know there are some out there that don’t get that…   

Secondly, we figure out how to pay for freezing sperm.  There are resources out there it is just a matter of making phone calls and price comparing so to speak. 

After that it is a huge matter of moving.  The lease at our current home runs out at the end of September.  We have the choice to move closer to Evan’s doctors in Chapel Hill or move to a state that has medical marijuana.  I could use this time to explain how I once opposed marijuana until my husband developed brain cancer and I witnessed how narcotics didn’t help ease his pain, or I could explain the ridiculous amount of pills that he ingests daily to hardly manage symptoms that accompany brain tumors, but I won’t.  Not at this moment.  The truth of the matter is marijuana helps.  Period.

I can’t change the fact that my husband has an aggressive form of brain cancer.  I can’t change the fact that he has to get chemo.  However, I can change where we live so my husband can be more comfortable during this and we won’t face persecution.  He has family in Washington, California and Maine–all states that allow medical marijuana.  His doctors are aware that we are considering moving for this reason and all but one support it. 

The fact is we can’t afford the amount of marijuana in this state that he needs.  The fact is my husband experiences pain, nausea, anxiety, depression, numbness in half of his body, ridiculous headaches and vision problems 24/7.  He worries about moving because he has established care with his doctors here in North Carolina, but I worry about his health if we stay here.  That’s the bottom line.  He can receive chemo in other states.  He can’t receive medical marijuana.  He can’t receive the relief he deserves.

There are a slew of things that accompany moving and planning for the future.  I will try to post our research and the overall process in hopes of helping others.