Today's my mom's birthday. She passed away over 3 years ago. Colon cancer. In a way, her passing's the reason we found out about Lori's melanoma.

About a year after my mom's death, my dad asked us if we wanted her old treadmill? I asked Lori and she did. We went over there to pick it up. Once we got home, we brought it inside and up the stairs. She was ahead of me so I'd have the bulk of the weight riding on me.

At the top of the landing, there's a 180 degree turn and the treadmill slipped out of my hands. Lori tried to keep control so it wouldn't do any damage, but I saw her grimace. She didn't say anything. We went ahead and put the treadmill where she wanted it.

A few days later, she complained that something didn't feel right whenever she tried to raise her right arm. She made an appointment with her doctor and I went along. He called for an xray.

The xray tech discovered her collarbone was broken, but it didn't look like a normal break so he brought in an expert. The bone around the break looked 'moth eaten'.

Bloodwork didn't determine anything. Finally it was determined that a biopsy of the lymph node above the left kidney was needed. My dad was in the hospital for a brain tumor when we got the results of the biopsy. Melanoma. It had weakened the collarbone.

About 13 years prior to that, Lori noticed a spot on her leg that didn't look right. She had her dermatologist remove and biopsy it, even though it was perfectly round and all one pink color. It came back positive for malignant melanoma.

I got the call at home. She was working as a horticulturist out on the road. I was able to track her down and give her the news. The dermatologist went back in and took a chunk out of her leg. Lori was worried about scarring. He did the best he could. He said he got it all.

With this new news, we wondered if he'd really gotten it all those years ago? Several options were discussed. We talked with an expert in San Antonio. M.D. Anderson was mentioned. Our options were limited because the insurance had run out.

We were able to get the cancer drug manufacturer to donate the cost of the drug and negotiated a 50% discount pay-as-you-go with the cancer center to administer the drug and do the bloodwork. She had to get daily injections for 4 weeks last fall. Then 3 weeks off and another 4 weeks on. I was there for every injection, every zap of radiation, every xray and every c/t scan.

In the middle of the second session, she complained that her right leg didn't feel right. A c/t scan discovered a severe thinning of her femur. The radiologist told her it was so weak, that if she twisted it while weight was on it, the leg could break. Hopefully several sessions of radiation would kill the tumor and allow the bone to regrow.

The 3rd Saturday before last Christmas, I was out at my dad's checking on his health when my cellphone rang. Lori had stepped out into the backyard to look at a rose bush. The uneven ground caused her to twist that leg and it broke. She called me with the cordless phone she'd taken outside with her.

I hurried home as fast as I could. I took one look and knew I needed to call for an ambulance. They got here quick. I followed them to the hospital where they put her leg in traction so the muscles wouldn't bunch up putting the bone at a bad angle.

The next day she had surgery to have a titanium rod inserted. The same procedure done to elderly patients when they break a hip. She was in the hospital for a week, then moved to a rehab facility halfway across town for 2 more weeks. We had no money to cover this. (The hospital ended up waiving the fees. We were notified by letter the Friday before she passed away).

While she was in the hospital, she couldn't hardly eat and lost 40% of her body weight. I kept begging her to eat so she could keep her strength up. They released her right before Christmas. She just had a little time to buy some gifts. She was in a wheelchair that was donated. With medical bills over 20,000 dollars and a lot of it on credit cards, we didn't have much of a Christmas.

After Christmas, she began physical therapy. It was a new year and a new insurance policy. Things were looking up. Her sessions took place in an indoor pool. She was eating again, gaining weight and getting some strength back. The night after her 4th session, however, she became very ill with flu like symptoms. She lost all the weight she'd gained back.

It was a big setback for her. We had to postpone all her appointments while she recovered. Once she recovered enough, we rescheduled her appointment with her oncologist. A c/t scan had revealed 'microscopic' spots on her lungs. Another blow. I could tell by the look on her face she was devastated. He wanted her to gain her weight back so she could begin fighting this new development.

She never did fully recover from the flu and 3 weeks later, I lost her forever.

The days are quickly turning shorter and the nights are getting longer. I don't like the night. It was after sundown last March when I had to call for an ambulance for the last time. Just two days after our 15th wedding anniversary. Everyday when the sun goes down, I think back to that night.

It was the sun that killed her. Melanoma. As much as I hate the night, it's the sun that no longer brightens my day. People tell me things will get better. It must be true. It's been almost 8 months and I only cry seven days/week now.

When she was diagnosed last year, people told us next year things would be better. I wish that were so. She was my best friend.

The Friday before our anniversary, the doctor wanted her to come in for some bloodwork. Afterwards I did not drive the usual way back home. She wanted to know where we were going? I told her she would see.

I took her to a garden nursery. One we had never visited. She was amazing with plants. She had turned our yard into paradise. I knew the nursery visit had to be a short one because she hadn't been out of a wheelchair long. She had broken a leg weak from the cancer last December and her stamina hadn't come back.

She'd been wanting some windchimes so the visit the nursery was so she could pick out just the right ones. After she decided on which ones to get, the nursery worker told me how much they were - almost 100 dollars. My wife said that was too much money to spend on her. Her disease had cost us thousands of dollars because the insurance had run out. I disagreed with her and paid for them.

On our anniversary, I went to her bedside with the chimes, a card, a dozen yellow roses (her favorite, even though like her, they didn't last long enough) and a heart shaped mylar balloon that read 'Love Grows'. She had lost track of the days and thought our annivesary wasn't until the next day.

She'd ordered a cake for us, but was too sick to pick it up, so I offered. She wanted me to bring her purse to her, but I blurted out that I would pay for it. She got this very hurt look on her face. I could kick myself for denying her the pleasure of paying for the cake herself. She was too ill to eat it and after she passed away, so was I.

I didn't hang up the windchimes after I gave them to her because I wanted her to be well enough to come outside when I hung them. That never happened. It took me two months to bring myself to do so. As soon as I did, the flapper started blowing in the breeze causing the chimes to make their music. I'd like to think it was her talking to me. At least that's what I told everyone who came by in the weeks following the funeral.

For the longest time, I had looked forward to helping her celebrate her 50th birthday because she was going to reach it before me. She would've reached that milestone this past August. I couldn't even bring myself to visit the cemetary that day.

I'm creating this blog because I was inspired by another blogger. She's a columnist for a local newspaper. I'm hoping my posts will help me cope. More to come in the weeks ahead. That's the plan, but I now know the frailty of plans all too well.