Those are not my words. The title is an actual quote from more than one friend to Donna upon her diagnoses of metastatic breast cancer. Donna, who is better in polite company than I am, didn’t get banned from wherever she because of shouted expletives after that. Most of you know my reflexive go-to word in most cases I find challenging. (Ok fine, it’s my go-to in pretty much all situations, at various levels of high volume.) Her other friends commented on the blog post. They, too, are better polite company than I am. They told her they love her, were proud to be her friend, and all kinds of the supportive things friends usually say and believe and live.
I am not that guy. Here is what I wrote:
I’m sorry, friends are not allowed to tell you that everyone is going to die. That shows true lack of understanding of what it’s like knowing death is closer to you than to most. Ominous. It also means they will never understand why every time things take a downturn, you wonder, “well, is this the end?” True friends listen and are positive and NEVER try to rationalize the worst part of our disease…. Love, your Stage IV Metastatic friend. (Here’s something positive for you: People with my original diagnosis have an average lifespan of 18 months. I’m coming up on 6 years. THAT is hopeful and helpful.
Karma? I don’t know, but within hours, I was the one wondering, “well, is this the end?” My breathing had become more labored since I came back from LA on Weds. I was pretty droopy on Saturday, and things went from bad to worse (I did, anyway)
About 3:30 in the morning Sunday, I woke up because I was freezing. Shivering so violently even Lucy wouldn’t stay tight (that’s a LOT if you don’t know Lucy). I’m pretty foggy about those few hours (and more than a few hours after this), but I don’t remember coughing much. I do remember having a tough time getting in oxygen, which caused increasing panic, which made the breathing harder. I bumped my O2 concentrator up to 2.5. This was the first time I wondered, “well, is this the end?” Still, I was too cold to do anything that would have required me to get out of bed. Until about 5 or 6. I texted Patrick that I was going to the hospital. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that without getting out of my own bed, but Patrick is a problem solver. He was over in about negative one minute and on the phone with 911 soon after. Another hospital ride with the Park City FD. They were super nice and cute (of course), but they weren’t my usual team, with Ski Patrol Chris. Getting to the ambulance was like walking along the ridge to Uhuru Peak at 19,000 whatever feet on Mount Kilimanjaro, except I was absolutely getting more oxygen in Africa. When we finally got to the ambulance, the step up was about 5 feet off the ground. I stopped short and asked the EMT, “Is that me????” He said he could put me in the gurney and roll me in, which did NOT appeal to the stubborn Ironman side of me that I just can’t exorcise. So I stepped in on my own (it was probably more like 2 feet) and paid for it with a few minutes of coughing and gasping for air.
We went straight to Salt Lake this time, knowing that Park City Hospital wouldn’t let me stay there. Huntsman didn’t have a bed, so I spent a few hours in the Emergency Department with my 104 degree fever and muscles exhausted from contracting hard for hours.. X ray, CT scan, blood draw after blood draw after blood draw to see if I have some weird infection.. I’m pretty sure I was following directions, but many of them didn’t make sense. (YOU try not to cough in the middle of a coughing attack.) I just nodded and followed their leads mostly and tried not to stand up.
I finally was transferred by Nestor wheeling the wheelchair through the bowels of the U and Huntsman and into my room, where I still am, 3 days later. It’s been a tv drama in here since I arrived. Within hours, I went into such a bad coughing, wheezing, low oxygen level, gasping for air panic that the rapid response team filled my room. That’s about 9 people from different departments watching you and trying to figure out what the f? This was the second time I wondered if this could be my time. With an audience in my own little theatre, but no popcorn. This might be funny if I didn’t remember how terrified I was at being unable to make myself feel better.. That group had a lot of brain power. Four kinds of antibiotics, A nebulizer treatment (or 5), Mucinex, Symbicort, cough medicine, a steroid, and the miracle drug Atavan worked together too get my feet back on land. That Atavan is amazing. Someh0w it relaxes my lungs so I can breathe out of more than the top half. I actually had a halfway decent afternoon, what i remember of it.
A side view of my IV pole, so you can’t even see how many drugs are hung. But i took this at a time when I couldn’t get up. So I think it’s fine.
I had to swallow these. They wouldn’t fit in the IV tubing.
The initial verdict was yes, a bad case of pneumonia with sepsis and maybe a c0uple of other infections. I’m on an alphabet of antibiotics, plus a slew of other things. Like the ice mat. Nothing was making my 104 degree fever go down. So my nurse. McKenzie found, tada!, the ice cooled mat that she made me lie on. (It actually wasn’t as bad as I’d dreaded, plus it worked.) (But I never need to do that again.) Despite all that, I spiked another 103/4 fever yesterday. That meant more blood pulled so they could try to identify the infection that is laughing in the face of the tsunami of antibiotics coursing through my body. My temp has held close to normal now for a day.
Days are pretty good. Both nights here br0ught coughing, wheezing, and a troubling inability to breathe that required me to sleep in a chair one night, and just to get vertical and buzz Maisie, my overnight nurse, to bring me more more drugs this morning at 5. I don’t think I’ll get out of here today.
I think about death all the time. But not in a creepy horror movie way. I know it’s closer to me than it is to most people (although yes, Mom. someone could be hit by a bus and die first. But truly, who was the last person you know who was hit by a bus to death?) I am accepting of death. but this is the first time I have thought of it as a real thing for myself (except that time when we were sledding down Redgate Drive and I was headed straight under a car, but Timmy Tilburg pulled my runner at the last minute and saved me. I think he was disappointed to have averted carnage.) Anyway, it never crossed my mind that my own death could be a.. well, a violent one as would have happened this week. I figured I would do like my friend, Stuart Scott, and train with a trainer, and write most of a book, and produce my own memorial service (where you took my Sister Hazel idea), and fade away, but NOT fade away. I’m still not afraid of death, but this week presented a whole different dimension that I hadn’t considered. I threw something out into the universe, and I’m not sure what the return message was, besides scary. Maybe it’s that most of us (I’ll receive the message for the team) don’t choose how we die, and it could be completely different than the pretty death you hope for. I know there’s such a thing. I saw the ER episode where Mark died. I’ll mull it over for a while. I’ll have time, because I am getting better (right now. At 2:07 MST).
So, Donna, don’t let people rationalize your eventual death with a statement that “we all die.” It’s a cop out. It’s chirpy and breezy and easy. Sure it’s true, but as a resp0nse to an announcement of metastatic cancer, it’s a bit superficial, a bit callous. It does continue the conversation, so it’s not all bad. And all of this wafting of death stirred up from last week and this week is a great reminder that all of us, but especially you and me and Kathi and Michael and Shannon and all the other Stage IV Mets that we know need to continue to take advantage of our good days to do great things. And fun things. And new things. And things with people you love. Because one thing is as sure as sure can be: You probably won’t have as much time as you want. Not this time, Death. #Defy
So eat the hospital waffle.
Thank you for inspiring us to do more with what we have Wendy.
You are amazing Wendy, inspiaring us all to make the most of each day
Sorry to have seen you leave WESH- probably a life time ago for you. You had the courage to do what you loved to do. I just heard you weren’t doing well and I was sorry to hear that. I was glad that you never lost your journalistic instinct, to report… and now from your heart. I know I speak for many in central Florida in saying, we miss you and, you are in our thoughts as you continue to fight this battle courageously.
Courageous, accepting, intelligent and aware! Wendy you have always been the light in the room from the first time I met you and we laughed that no one had signed my husbands yearbook in high school to keep it clean but we were determined to get the job done! Stay focused on positivity and know that you are admired by so many – sending you prayers of love & light 🧡🙏
Wendy, I follow your blog religiously and I feel as if I know you. I would love to meet you one day. Until then, you continue to be my hero and a true inspiration to so many people. Please get well now.
Best,
Susan Helmrich
The second I read “shivering so violently,” I whispered, “sepsis.” It was 2005 for me, but I remember it vividly. I’m so glad you’re on the upswing. A million good wishes your way!
Dear Wendy, I remember You when you were on The news in Orlando. I have heard about you from so many running friends that know you. You are an inspiration! Thank you for your honesty and for sharing a piece of reality. I pray you recover soon,
Sincerely, Aileen Trivedi
Wendy, my daughter and I met you at WESH back in 1997, you gave us a tour of the studio and you spent time ‘talking tv’ with my daughter…you were her idol. When I went through colon cancer 3 years ago, you were MY idol, I focused on you and your strength and it helped me immensely. I pray you feel better soon and keep on truckin’!
Wendy… one of the bravest and fiercest souls I know of. I was mesmerized by your writing. I pray for you and my beautiful niece.. who is facing this battle with the utmost courage. Keep fighting. You are such an inspiration.
Wendy, You write so eloquently. Your positivity is so inspiring and something which I have always admired about you. I am thinking of you…
Chris Houston
This will sound stupid. But you may have tumor fevers. Hospitals miss it regularly because they’re so worried about missing infection. They overtreat with antibiotics. This is what they did to my wife Lynne. Does the fever respond to simple ibuprofen? If so, then it’s likely tumor fever. Just want to help.
Thanks, Terry. I’ll ask about this.
F. That hurts. Thx for the lesson…grateful for your courage. Lisa Portelli with hugs. Kick this shi- and let’s go ride bikes around Tuskawilla 🙂
Artful, intelligent, witty writing – always. Thank you for being such an unbelievable walking example of grace.
Miss you my friend and as always admire you from afar. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. On the bike and off.
You are a strong and courageous woman, an inspiration to all that are suffering from cancer or any terminal disease for that matter. I am so glad you are pushing yourself to live life to the fullest because we only get one go around.
Wendy, I am always so moved by your words, every detail. You are a soldier, a warrior, a hero, an inspiration to me and so many others. I will continue to pray for you. If you stop by O-town during your travels, would love to see you! #defy
How I adore Donna, and she is as positive and sweet and kind as they come. I hope you both many many years more. Donna has taught ME so much in the face of her cancer about the human spirit and I am damned if I am ready to stop learning from her. F#+& CANCER.
I’m still crushed that you said “no” when I asked you to the homecoming dance our senior year.
But you’ve kept me going now for a long, long time – please continue?
Thanks for sharing, keep climbing, remember to embrace help when at “altitude”, and I have never in my career seen a hospital waffle look so good!
Your candor, eloquence and bravery, especially in the face of something so very scary, is truly amazing! I hope you are on the mend and back to feeling more like yourself soon.
You are the best — Ilove your advice to your pal and am pulling for you. Reading your blog makes me feel better about the world cuz you are in it
Wendy, thank you for posting this. I don’t have metastatic breast cancer. But a friend does. And another friend has pancreatic cancer, and another has colon cancer. For me, your post is a teaching moment, not just for when I’m talking to them, but also for when I’m thinking about them and praying for them. You’ve helped me understand more fully. Thank you.
You nailed it Wendy. Life is not easy. Eat the waffle.
I still miss you on WESH!
Beautiful and poignant.
Wendy, I remember to this day the moment I met you – you in the front seat of the WESH helicopter at some breaking story. Just stuck with me for some reason – probably because of your infectious positivity and smile!
PLEASE be careful to monitor your emotional and brain health after the antibiotics. I’m sure you’ve read about the direct link between the gut and brain. I found myself racked with an incapacitating anxiety and depression following antibiotics two years ago that took weeks to wear off. Please get on high quality pro biopics right away and know that many are praying for you and sending love!
Wendy, I watched you in the news for years. I also remember seeing you running on Park Ave one day. I recognized you immediately. I’m sorry you’re going through this but your attitude is an inspiration. I lived in Salt Lake City for a few months and thought it was beautiful. The mountains right outside my door. I’m glad you’re enjoying them too. Best wishes.
Thank.you Wendy for your honesty & sharing your journey with us. You are an amazing women & writer. I feel like i know you so well while reading your comments. Thank you for inspiring me- thank you for motivating me to learn how to kick cancer in the face.
I’ve followed you since I watched you on WESH in Orlando. You are an inspiration….so much courage and determination! I’m sending you good Florida karma and hope to hear you’re soon feeling good again and are out hiking, skiing and laughing with your friends.
Wendy, A few years ago, I met you at a Growing Bolder event where I was given an award called “Geriatric award” ( I am 80) for having survived 6 different types of cancer and during the same 33 years completed 300 triathlons. Ever since then I have followed your brave battle and wonderfully inspiring attitude.
I hope and pray that they will find the answer to help you win the battle.
Never, ever give up !!!
Thank you for the inspiration you have provided to me,
Tony Handler
Like you said, we don’t know how we’ll die, but if it isn’t sudden, I wonder how I’ll handle knowing I’m going to die. I’m afraid of being out-of-my mind afraid. Your words give me hope that I’ll be able to handle it in a way to not waste the days I have. Thank you.
Wendy,
Still love you and always well.
Skyeye2
M.B.
Wendy, thanks for writing these…I hope and Pray for ya…and can think of these when I am all pissed about that stupid 6 pm live shot!!! Hope that gives you a chuckle of a memory…..that live shot ain’t so bad….in all seriousness your writing these is inspiration for many, and helping folks is what matter….Keep on Wendy!!!
Thank you for your honesty. I remember when you told your WEsH audience of your cancer. I ran with you In races before and after. You continue to be an inspiration to m. Keep moving
Thank you! for sharing your heart and your journey. when you lived here in Orlando our school took a tour of Wesh tv and you were nice to us kids. Always had a bug to be a journalist. and sometimes it’s seeing a post like this that makes you wake up and really start living out your dream. God bless & Carpe diem keeping you always in my thoughts and prayers
Hi Wendy, you are a brave one! Praying for you.
You are still a wonderful storyteller, a truly gifted one is so rare. I wish for you comfort and peace in your soul and anything else you may desire. Here’s to easier breathing and good waffles!
Dear Wendy,
You are the champion of champions. My prayers are non stop for a quick improvement and in the meantime..DEFY, DEFY DEFY…”.GOD BLESS YOU”
Thank you Wendy for sharing yourself with us. Cancer is one of those things that affects so many people and having your insight helps us get through it. My Mom passed a couple of years ago after being diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and other health issues at 86. Mom never smoked and her cancer bad never been found by doctors before this diagnosis. My cousin has a granddaughter who is a U. S. Marine veteran who lost her left leg in Afghanistan. She is a fighter like you are, her name is Kirstie Ennis. Her goal in life is supporting our veterans. She set herself a goal of climbing the 7 highest mountains in the world. Her next climb is next month up Everest. She reminds me so much of you with your determination, strength and faith to get through all that you’re facing. Keeping you in our prayers and thoughts.
Dear Wendy
Your courage and insight is amazing! I’m sending prayers of comfort to you my friend! Selfishly hoping we have more adventures ahead like the first time we saw the grand canyon
God bless you!
Dear Wendy,
Saying “we’re all going to die” is no comfort to the one looking at that door. You are so right, We have often seached the Bible for the life stories of those who persevered. You are indeed one of those stories. In our life we pray that we won’t do anything that will short-circuit us to eternity. You are the example of fighting the fight. We don’t fix our eyes on what is temporary but on what is eternal but we should move in this temporary shell with the vigor you have ! Thank you for the courage that you inspire in all of us.
Our prayers include you.
Hang in there girl. Moved to tears as always, your spirit shines through and you inspire us all.
Thank you.
Every breath you take
Every move you make
My poor heart aches
With every step you take
You are inspiration to all those who you’ve touched.
wendi,
may I please send a preacher to pray with you to help encourage you? Please let me know. Jesus loves you so much. So much, God sent His Son, Jesus to give His life, so we have the hope of eternal life.I used to Pastor a Church in Orlando, Fl, while you were an anchor in FL. My wife and I used to watch you as she is from South Korea.
God Bless,
John 3:16: For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
Revelation 21:1-4: hen I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place[a] of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people,[b] and God himself will be with them as their God.[c] 4 He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
Romans 8:38-39: For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
1 COrinthians 15:51-57: Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?”
Wendy, I had been thinking about you the past few days and now I know probably why. I miss seeing you since I retired and helping you with lab draws and such as you needed. Your in the right hospital to take care of this. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers. Your an amazing example to all.
I think about you all the time and miss you. I hope you are enjoying retirement!