What would you do if you thought you may only have a few years left with someone you love? One year? A few months?

In November of 2018, Jose and I were faced with the stark reality that life is so incredibly short and not guaranteed for any of us. After my uber healthy husband underwent a routine physical and subsequent biopsy due to higher than normal PSA levels (prostate specific antigen), my beloved was diagnosed with intermediate prostate cancer.

You may be wondering why I’m all of a sudden writing about this now. Truth be told, I’ve been writing pieces in my head since last year. I knew immediately after his diagnosis that I would be sharing at some point, and if you look back at my very first post you will see I created this website in December of 2018. I just didn’t know exactly when God would press me to share more (or when my husband would be comfortable with putting everything out in the open). Instead, I started this blog by reflecting on the beautiful intersection that is our lives… the story of when we first met in May 2005. You can find part one of our story here and part two here.

When Jose and I first found out his diagnosis, it all came to pass during the Fall season. We saw his urologist on the very same day my mother and aunt came in from out of town – the day before Thanksgiving. In hindsight, I can see how God orchestrated everything to keep me busy and to provide the moral support I so desperately would need.

If I’m being honest, the initial news left me utterly destroyed. Maybe it was the fact we had just lost four women in our family that same year – our sister-in-law to cancer, Jose’s mother, and both of my grandmothers… all within a matter of six months. It was difficult not to draw parallels and reflect on my father being diagnosed with cancer in the Fall at age 53. Ultimately, he would leave this world only five short months later.

There I was, in the same calendar season, faced once again with that wretched cancer in my own husband at the age of 52…

Record screech.

As I mentioned, Jose and I met with his urologist the day before Thanksgiving. The doctor confirmed what was suspected with the initial scan, but with some additional news neither one of us were quite prepared for. Also visible on the scan was “something” on Jose’s lower spine. He would require a lumbar MRI in order for the doctor to positively identify the area of concern. At that point, Jose and I had been educating ourselves for weeks on prostate cancer. We had bought books, joined support groups on Facebook, and committed to understanding everything we could. We were both aware one of the most common spots for prostate cancer metastasis is the lower spine. If you do enough reading on distant metastatic prostate cancer, the 5 year survival rate is about 30%. All I could think about was the fact that Solana would still be in high school in 5 years.

As we left the doctor’s office on that beautiful, Fall day before Thanksgiving – Jose and I walked hand in hand through the parking lot. My focus went to the sound our feet made with each step on the pavement. My heart was in my throat. We sat down inside our vehicle and shut the doors to silence.

I sobbed uncontrollably.

In the days that would follow, we celebrated Thanksgiving with our family. At first, I only told Makenzie, my mother and my aunt what we had found out. Eventually, I found the courage to email a small group of trusted friends and church family to ask for prayer. As I sat in my bedroom alone one afternoon, I called to Jesus through my tears…

“Lord, I need to see you. I need to know you are there! I need to hear you!”

In that moment, I thought surely the Lord didn’t let me walk this road and give me Jose only to take him away. Surely God wouldn’t take my brother and my father while I was in my twenties, but then heal me & give me the desires of my heart… only to pull out the rug from underneath my feet later. Surely not.

A couple of days later, I had a coffee date with one of my former senior girls who is now my dear friend. We had scheduled our little date at least a couple of weeks prior with the intention of talking about photography and entrepreneurship. I didn’t even want to brush my hair, much less leave the house, but I knew she needed me or else she wouldn’t have asked to see me. So with a ton of hesitation and angst, I got ready and went out to meet her.

I met her at a local Starbucks, ready to talk about life as a small business owner and the like. No longer than two minutes into our conversation, however, I found myself telling her what was going on and how I was struggling with the fact Solana was only 10 years old. How in the world am I supposed to tell my little girl her Daddy has cancer? In that moment, she told me that her father had walked the same road, that she understood… and how old do you think she was at the time? Ten, of course.

Oh, HEY God! So awesome seeing you here!! 

In the weeks that would follow, my anxiety was at an all time high. Jose was a pillar of strength. He never said the first negative thing. He maintained a spirit of optimism and hope amidst the earth I felt crumbling underneath my feet. I found myself not wanting to leave the house during the day, committed to being near him and taking every breath alongside him for as long as God would allow. I would pull him to me at the most random moments during the day, burying my face into his neck and crying. Praying. Pleading with God to spare him. Jose never showed that he was worried for himself, only that he was worried about me. He never expressed fear or questioned why God was allowing us to walk this road. Not one time.

In the week after Thanksgiving, Jose went in for his lumbar MRI. We were told the results would come later. We attempted to get information over the phone from the nurses for the next week, but the doctor wanted us to come back in. I tried as best I could to prepare myself for the worst. The only plausible reason a doctor would want us to come in would be to deliver bad news.

From the time of diagnosis to the MRI results, we waited for two and a half weeks. The longest two and a half weeks of my life. During that time, Jose and I talked about our wills, our house, life insurance, what I would do if the Lord took him away, etc. etc. You get the picture.

Finally, Jose and I met with his urologist a couple of weeks before Christmas. The nurse greeted us with a smile and was incredibly kind and warm. A little too warm, I thought. I examined every move of every person in that place, trying to decode what was about to happen. (Oh man, I never get out of my head.) After 10 minutes of waiting in a quiet room with our hands glued together, there was a light knock and the door creaked as the doctor peeked in.

One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three…

“Guys, I’ve got good news. The scan is clear.”

ENTER ELATION…

And tears. And hugging. And laughing. And shouts of thank you, Jesus!

The cancer was contained inside the prostate capsule. We still don’t know exactly what was on that scan, but the doctor indicated it could be some type of arthritis or even scar tissue from Jose’s football days.

Jose and I have continued to walk this road together to determine the right treatment for us (yes, us.) If there’s one thing I’ve learned through the past nine months, this is a couple’s disease, and we are going through this together. Whatever he eats, I eat. Whatever he must go without, I must go without. Whatever he has to endure, I will endure it while standing right beside him.

Jose has never looked more beautiful to me than he does now… and I honestly think he is healthier with this diagnosis than most men his age with no health issues whatsoever. He takes incredible care of himself, only eats what is whole (for the most part!), and continues to run/work out 4-5 days per week. I am incredibly proud of my hard working husband and I love him with my whole heart.

Soon I will share more details on prostate cancer, whole food recipes that heal the body, available treatment options, what we ultimately chose for treatment…. and where we are nine months after his diagnosis.

If you read this far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Please continue to pray for my husband as our journey continues.

love – Tiffany