I Married Superman

He’s not a bird. He’s not a plane. He doesn’t leap tall buildings in a single bound. He’s not the popular comic book superhero.

Where do I begin …

In December 2022, my husband received a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. Yeah, pancreatic cancer. Something you never expect, and believe me, it changes EVERYTHING. From day one, every thought, every plan, every emotion, every detail of life changes. And it’s never the same. 

It was the last week of October 2022 when we got the call. Chris (my super-man) had taken a day off and we were on our way to our favorite disc golf course for a round of golf. 

You may ask, “Did you panic right away?” Well, yes, I did. The “C” word after a scan is bad enough but, put the word “pancreatic” in front of it, and it’s downright terrifying. 

It was a routine scan that I had to fight to have done. You see, before our journey with pancreatic cancer, my husband went through chemotherapy for lymphoma in 2019 while we were living in Colorado. Scans had become a part of life. However, the powers that be didn’t feel he needed more scans. Yes, praise God, my husband was cancer free. Complete remission from lymphoma.

But enter the over-protective wife. The wife that says something doesn’t feel right. The wife that demanded just one more scan. And we got it. Thank God we got it. But this scan plunged us into uncharted territory, an unknown we still struggle to navigate.

Our doctors caught it early, at least earlier than most. Caught because of a scan for lymphoma. 

My husband endured weeks in the hospital because of severe jaundice. One biopsy after another, attempting to get a tissue sample they could use to actually get a diagnosis. After a CT guided biopsy, John Hopkins confirmed we were indeed dealing with pancreatic cancer.

Two days after Christmas, my husband began months of chemo. Finally, on July 3, 2023, the man I love, my best friend, my favorite human, went through a ten-hour surgery called a “Whipple procedure” that removed over half his pancreas. He came out of that surgery with a completely redesigned digestive system and a newly constructed portal vein because his portal vein collapsed during the procedure. It was touch and go for days because of blood loss.

Yeah. Never the same.

Going through this is enough to make anyone a superhuman. But there’s more. Months of recovery from surgery. Learning what he could and couldn’t eat. A kidney stone. Overgrowth of bacteria in his small intestines (SIBO) that required weeks of antibiotics. A spleen embolization that took half of his spleen.

But when did I see Superman?

I could tell you about his working full time through the sickness from chemo. Working from home while recovering from one of the most complicated surgeries out there. Making sure he took me out for date night when possible. About his determination to finish projects at home. 

But I know my husband and none of that surprised me. He puts his family before himself. 

I saw my Superman at church a few months ago. Chris is part of our church’s prayer team. During altar ministry time, this group prays one on one with those who have needs. Whatever the need, this group is there to pray. 

A couple of Sundays a month, I’m on the platform with our praise team to either sing or play bass. From that vantage, I can see when my husband is standing, or if he needs to sit. I see when he leaves the service. 

On this Sunday morning, I knew he wasn’t feeling well. He has struggled with feeling “normal” since his surgery, but some days are worse than others. I watched him during worship stand, then sit. He left the service and came back. He remained seated when the call for ministry came, and I sensed he wouldn’t join the prayer team. Who would expect him to, right? He was among those who needed prayer. I turned back and focused on my music. 

Moments later, I looked up and there he stood at the altar, praying with someone. Someone with no idea about his struggles. Someone whose name Chris probably didn’t even know. But there he stood … sick, gaunt, in need of prayer himself, praying with someone for their needs.

Over lunch, I mentioned my surprise at seeing him at the altar. “I know you weren’t feeling well. It was good you could go up with the prayer team.”

“I didn’t feel any better,” he said. “But I couldn’t stay there knowing what God has done for me—for us—and not pray for others.”

And that’s when I saw Superman. My husband. My Super-man. My hero.

Prayer continues to be his driving force through this battle. Believing. Walking in faith. There is no other choice.

So now, the cancer is back. My husband began round three of chemotherapy a few weeks ago with a second spleen embolization to come. We’ve heard others say, “third time’s a charm.” Not us. We say BUT GOD—EVERY TIME!

How does anyone make it through this life without Jesus? If you don’t know Him, make it a point to seek Him. To find Him. To get to know Him. To receive Him. 

After all, Jesus is the real Superman!