family

Cancer Alone

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Shannen’s death has caused many women to come out with their story of their partners not being there for them during cancer.

Mine goes like this:

In 2018 I went through a routine mammogram which resulted in an ultrasound and then emergency biopsy in the same visit.

Three days later, fearing the worst, I opted not to drive and took public transport with my mother who was visiting, and my young daughters in tow, to the Royal Women’s hospital for my results. My doctor with his fingernail, circled the word cancer which he had written on a diagram of a women’s upper body.

I left his office to the large, full waiting room to share the news with my mother who gave me the most hollow hug I have ever felt in my life. Once we boarded the train home I finally called my then husband who was working in the U.S.. The first try there was no answer, the second time he answered and I’d woken him up. Although he knew when my appointment was, he didn’t offer support prior to it, or wait for the outcome of this important appointment. I spoke the word cancer to him which felt like speaking into a black hole.

With my impending first surgery on the immediate horizon, he chose to return to Australia originally the day of my surgery but after convincing on my part, arrived the day before.

On the day of surgery he pressed me for the Amazon password to download or buy something I have no idea. He then proceeded to argue with me over it when I didn’t comply with his demand.

I was so upset that day and I told him he didn’t need to drive me to the hospital and I lined up my friend Trish as a backup. After much deliberation, he drove me to the hospital.

My mother assisted him with the kids but I was on my own to recover from two surgeries. The second surgery happened about a week after the first, and then both my retired mother and my ex-husband flew back to the U.S. to resume their lives. I was alone to recover from surgeries and care for the kids who were 9 and 6.

During that time, I was healing and preparing for 6 weeks of radiotherapy and I no longer wanted the negative energy in the house while I went through the next phase. I was determined that after being left alone to recover, I could easily get myself through radiotherapy, and I did.

I decided while he was away working, to see a lawyer to start an official separation. We already slept in separate rooms. As I sat there providing details of our household and then his name, the lawyer stopped me and left the room. She returned to tell me she could not represent me. In that instant, I knew he had already secured a lawyer. Little did I know then, he’d gone to them 5 months earlier in 2017 and started diarising my every move. Then in January 2018 recruited my mother in diarising my moves while he was away working, and I was being diagnosed with cancer. He then recruited her in affidavit form against me during the divorce in mid 2018 in an attempt to get the immediate removal of the children to the U.S. using my health issues and accusing me of being an alcoholic and risk to the children. We know how that all played out but most don’t know what went on then.

I don’t remember leaving the lawyer’s building but I remember feeling gutted and hunched over on the sidewalk in shock. I got in my car and sat there crying. I called my mother who for the most part said she wanted to stay out of it. I then called my friend Trish who told me to cry and get it out of my system, and then call another lawyer. I did just that. That lawyer has been the one I relied on for the divorce and settlement, as well as the trial in November 2023 and hearings in 2024. 6 years of ongoing litigation.

If it weren’t for my friends and my small clothing business customers, and for the kids being my entire life, I don’t know how I would have gotten through it all.

Anyway, I know a thing or two about partners and even mothers abandoning you during cancer.

I will say this, cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me. I am happily remarried and have my beautiful girls under the same roof, in Australia, and I’d go through it all over again for this same outcome.

Choosing Family

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We’ve all heard the saying, “You can’t choose your family.” I said this very statement while discussing family outcasts in our family tree with a new-found cousin. Good, bad or ugly, it seems we are just born, raised, and no matter what, we are stuck with the family we have. Serendipity played quite a hand to me over this past week, as did the U.S. election, which made me undertake a full emotional review of what or whom family really is.

Over the last two months, I have been working with an AncestryDNA match of mine at 32cM who was listed as a 4th cousin. It was on my paternal side and because I am estranged from that side of the family, I haven’t really pursued my matches on that side. What made this person unique is that he was related to me and didn’t know his birth parents, he was chosen by his adoptive parents.

Using his DNA match results, I immediately found high matches to him, at 1st cousin range as well as an Aunt. I branched out on my tree and added these new family members. Scouring old newspapers and obituaries, I was able to pinpoint who I thought could be his mom.  As luck would have it, I found her. I also found a half-sister for my new-found cousin. I had worked day and night to piece together how they belonged to each other, and how they belonged on my tree. I spoke with his half sister over Skype and marveled at how familiar she looked to me and how much there was a family resemblance on that side.

What really struck me was how open this new sister’s heart was, as well as that of her new-found half-brother. They’ve now spoken to each other and need to figure out how to move forward in each other’s lives, as real blood family. He chose me, an unknown cousin, to help him find his mother, who made the very difficult choice of letting someone else be the family who raised him. Now, they’ve chosen to be part of each other’s lives and mine. As a genealogist, this is beyond thrilling and quite a highlight of my passionate work!

In the span of a week, I went from the elation of finding a person’s birth family to hitting rock bottom over the choice in the U.S. election outcome. I’ve remained professional and kept any discussion of politics off of my professional presence in social media for the entire election.

For most of my adult work life, I have sat side by side with a widely diverse group of colleagues. We’ve solved problems on the job together, celebrated weddings,  babies and birthdays, traveled together, encouraged each other through tough times, and socialized outside of work. When you spend that amount of time with people, you really get to know them, experience them, and appreciate them for who they are, where they come from, and what’s important and of value to them. You see how they treat others, who they associate with, what they stand up for, and what they stand against. If I could choose family, many people in this group would be leaves on my tree.

What I have witnessed on both sides of this moment in U.S. history is how the divide is so great, even real family can’t build a bridge. It’s during the most trying of times, that you see who’s got your back, and who doesn’t. I have chosen to be a safe haven for chosen family and other alienated members of society, and made the easy choice to let some blood family members go. If beyond the likes on a Facebook post, there’s no real connection, no dialogue, no attempt, no common values, and instead a chosen side with privilege and/or ignorance, I choose to be on the side of history that protects all members of our global family.

A fondness for table scars

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Cleaning the kitchen table after dinner tonight I discovered all of the new scratches and scrapes. I shrugged and said to myself, this is life. We didn’t spend much on this table but the value it holds is immeasurable.

This table was the ideal replacement for the one the previous occupiers of our home had used when they owned this house. I remember loving their cute little table in the eat-in kitchen and we even offered extra cash at closing for it, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They had spent so much time and memories were created over that table and it was going with them. I never realized then what importance that table brought to them, I just thought it looked cute and we wanted to have that furnishing taking care of when we moved in.

Fast forward almost 7 years and I am getting teary-eyed over our current table. There’s nothing special about the furniture itself, but there’s no way I could ever part with it. Why? The chairs for one have seen baby booster seats strapped to them and have worn away the finish from the milk and countless other sticky items that have been encrusted under the seat. Both of our girls have stabbed the table with forks, we’ve planted countless herbs and vegetable seedlings, hosted parties, stripped some of the finish with nail polish remover as we’ve painted nails, and the grooves along the edge are filled with dried yogurt–yes this table is a keeper.

My oldest daughter in the past week has remained quiet on the car ride home and refused to tell me how her day was, what she learned at school or why she’s sad about something until our family is sat at the table so she can tell us all at once. I live for the moments at our table. Whether it’s a meal, a card game, a science project, a craft or playing under it with blankets and figurines, this is the precious time and memory that this table absorbs.

My youngest daughter likes to steal food, solicit hugs and kisses, climb across, jab and scrape with any sharp object, and spill any drink (on purpose) on this table so it must be important to her as well. This table is a living thing in this house.

Both kids without prompting (and mind you they are 5 and 2) both offer to clean the table and chairs when they see me cleaning it. They wipe the dirt, food smudges, drips and we start all over again the next meal, moment, memory.

Do you treasure your table like we do? Share your story with us!