Dealing with isolation is not new for widows and widowers who lost their spouses to cancer.
BY DIANA MARTIN
PUBLISHED APRIL 19, 2020
Diana M. Martin has been an adjunct professor in The Writing and Reading Center at Montgomery College in Rockville, MD, for over 15 years. She has a MFA in Creative Nonfiction and has published articles in the areas of parenting, health and cultural arts. When her husband lost his battle with cancer of unknown primary, later identified as bile duct cancer, she became the sole caregiver for their adult son, Alex, who is autistic.
Life will never be the same. That's the way I felt after my husband died from bile duct cancer in 2015. Today, I sit alone in my living room knowing that what I felt almost five years ago prepared me for today. My fellow Voices contributors have captured so well what it means to be frightened and isolated. What I have is my own unique experience which I hope someone will relate to and feel a little less alone.Much like the virus today, cancer changed the way I live. I became an empty nester when two years after my husband died, I decided my son with autism needed to be in a group living situation because if I were to die, there would be nobody to take care of him.
Cancer forced me to make that decision. Now he is on lockdown, and the state of Maryland is not allowing parents to visit. He doesn't speak and the most time I have with him is a few minutes on FaceTime where he looks confusingly into the screen. I'm not even sure he connects the person on the screen with his mom. For all I know, he feels abandoned inside. Still, I am grateful for the staff that risks their lives every day to take care of him and his roommates.
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