Shawn823

The top one is my devil Winston disguised as a cute little pug. The bottom one is my angel Monty chewing on his octopus---a toy given to him by DH.

So happy that you have this opportunity, sending positive vibes that you will get this job!

I'm a "short time" cancer wid. DH was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer in early December 2011 and died in mid December 2012. We went through chemo and radiation hoping that he would get more time, but didn't help much. He died the way that he wanted to, finally pain free but at the cost of not being conscious of what was going on around him. We spent so much time trying to keep each other upbeat that we did not spend enough time talking about how much I would miss him and how bereft I would be without him. He was my best friend, knew me better than anyone and would have liked his insights. You are not alone, smabify!

I am 27 months out from the worst day in my life. When I found ywbb, I spent hours reading, and though I found affirmation of my "normalcy" from the similar painful experiences of the other new widows, I found the most comfort in reading the posts of all of you "veteran" widows. Your words of reassurance were like no other balm for my pain. Nothing, other than the occasional hurtful flame throwing on the YWBB, disappointed me more than seeing a decline in the posts from the veterans over the last several months. I have been so comforted to see you all back here---names I eagerly looked for in those early days. I sincerely hope that you don't leave---I think you may underestimate the positive impact you have made on many and the hope you bring to so many going through the darkest days of their lives. And I do not mean that in a dramatic way at all. When I say that YWBB was a lifeline for me, I am largely referring to the posts of all of you long-timers. Thank you so much for coming back when this community needs you the most and please do not leave us now.

One of my favorites

Hi, I?m Shawn. My husband Blaine and I were best friends for 29 years and married for the last 16 of those. We met when we were both in the same internal medicine residency program and he was the resident supervisor on the same team on which I was an intern. We had an instant connection?-he was an amazing physician with an enormous compassion for others, but the other side of him of was pure wiseass. He had a totally irreverent sense of humor, a boisterous laugh, and a joie de vivre that simply was not in my nature. I never met anyone who didn?t like him. In some ways, he was a study in contrasts, a total sports fanatic but also a bird watcher and lover (my avatar is a flock of starlings in a unique display in the sky), an exercise nut who loved macaroni and cheese, a whiz with stocks and bonds who could not fix a thing in the house?.the list goes on. In November 2011, he finally admitted that he had been having abdominal pain, which he had been chalking up to low grade diverticulitis. Ultimately, he had a CT scan that showed a cystic lesion in the tail of his pancreas. Almost a year to the day he died on December 11, 2012, we found out that what we thought would be a surgically correctable lesion, was actually inoperable pancreatic cancer. We both knew instantly what that meant, but he soldiered through chemo and radiation with the hope that he could possibly extend his life. Through all of it, he fought to maintain the solo primary care practice that he worked so hard to build from nothing over the preceding 12 years. I knew the end was near, when he came home from work one day in September 2012 and said.?Babe, for the first time ever, I did not feel like being there today?. Then came the trauma and chaos of having to close his practice, ultimately the enrollment in hospice care and the tortuous process of dying. Prior to my husband?s death, I thought I knew something of what people who suffer such losses go through as I have worked in the field of HIV medicine for many years including back in the time when so many patients died. I watched the searing pain of loss over and over again, but I have learned that there are some experiences in life that are just impossible to fully understand unless you really walk in those shoes. I have been fortunate to have a very supportive family and circle of real-life friends, but none of them has ever quite been able to replicate the kind of understanding that I found at the YWBB. I am so very grateful that this community has been given new life here and to all the widow(er)s who have been willing to share their journeys.