In Sickness and In Health

When Dick and I were married, December 27, 1980, we stood before our pastor, family, and friends and committed vows to one another.
I take you to be my husband (wife)
To have and to hold from this day forward
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health
To love and to cherish till death do us part

On that snowy winter’s night in Dayton, OH, in a church filled with candles and romance, these words were, no doubt, said from deep in our hearts. But the reality is, we had no CLUE that we would indeed live out these vows in the years to come! Marriage isn’t all about the “for better” or “for richer” times. (And any of you married friends who are reading this are nodding your heads in agreement right now.)

Years ago, I surprised Dick with a song I had written for him during a difficult season of our marriage. The song was called “God Knew That I Needed You”. Part of the lyric says this:
When we face the darkest of the night, I’ll reach out for your hand
And I know your love will hold me tight till we can see the sun again . . .
And in the deepest valleys, the Lord will see us through
God knew that I needed you

True those years ago. True now.

I’ve been so grateful through these last months for the concern, love, and care shown not only to me, but to Dick in his new role as “caregiver”. Many have reached out to inquire about how he is walking out this journey. And while Dick and I are definitely in this together, there are issues each of us face that point to our unique callings during this season.

We were in the car for a quick trip to Aldi (where Dick ran in to pick up a few things as I waited in the car), and we talked through some of the challenges he’s experienced in this caregiver role. I thought I’d let you in on our conversation.

Mel: So babe, neither of us ever saw this coming, did we? Even the day we got the news of my diagnosis, we weren’t aware of the life-changes that would immediately happen in this chapter. What has been the most surprising thing to you about being thrust into this role?

Dick: Undoubtedly that this journey through cancer is unrelenting. We would go to sleep at night and as I looked at you I knew that this disease was present. When we woke up in the morning it was still there. (I spoke in the past tense there, as we are confident that we left the cancer at St. Thomas Hospital after the surgery.) There are no breaks, no relaxation, no time-outs. The diagnosis was on December 4 and, I would guess, since then there has been what feels like a finger poking into my arm that consistently reminds me of this season since we left the doctor’s office that day.

Who knew that I would become the CLO (Chief Laundry Officer), the KOK (Keeper of the Kitchen), PSC (Protein Smoothie Chef) and the security force to determine who comes to visit and for how long. Yes, there is a jug of hand-sanitizer inside our front door with optional masks. Lots of hand-washing when you come to our home these days. Who knew that a trip to the grocery store would become my very own “seek and destroy” mission with my list firmly in hand.

Mel: It is funny to see the difference between you and I as shoppers. I enjoy browsing, comparing prices, and looking at all the various options as I shop. You want a specific list – how many, what brand . . . and you’re on it! I also have to say I’ve enjoyed giving you a grocery list that is put in order of the layout of the store you’re shopping in. When you walked into Aldi, you took the list of 7 or 8 items and didn’t have to back track. Haha! Breads at the front, dairy at the end.

Dick: Something else I’ve observed about myself is, while I would have to say that compassion and service are not among my primary spiritual gifts, somehow none of this has felt like foreign territory. God gives strength, grace, and endurance when it is needed most.

Mel: Yes, He does. For both of us. I am also grateful that – I think except for one touring date that you had to turn down – you’ve been able to work on your music, arranging, conducting, touring, and all you put your hands to . . . AND be my loving, attentive caregiver.

Dick: Yes, I’ve traveled and played some concert dates and each time there has been someone . . . a relative, a close friend . . . who has come and stayed with you in the house while I’m gone. It’s also very convenient that a lot of the work I do can be done in our home studio here – whether it is piano projects, orchestra arranging or the like. I’ll also say that my work days tend to get a little shorter these days with some added responsibilities at home. Watching the Body of Christ surround us has been a completely humbling experience.

Mel: What have been some of the hardest moments for you in this chapter?

Dick: The 6-plus hours that you were in surgery were some of the longest 6 hours I’ve experienced in a long time. Fortunately Whitney (our older daughter) flew in that day so I was able to leave the hospital to pick her up at the airport after the procedures started. We grabbed a bite of lunch and then scurried back to the hospital. The surgical team texted me every 40-45 minutes during the surgery with basic updates (“the surgery is going well, your wife’s vitals are very stable”, etc.) and I received a live phone call from the surgical suite midway through telling me that all was well. Mid-afternoon I received a text that asked me/us to come back to the waiting area as the surgery was wrapping up. Seeing our surgeon appear in the waiting room and having him ask us to step into a side room was a welcome sight. And the news that he gave us was all good. But that period of time was pretty tense.

(This was right before I went back for surgery)

We had determined that I would stay in the hospital and fortunately there was a sweet nurse who found a cot for me to sleep on in your (Mel’s) room rather than spending nights in the recliner that was provided. As you’ve mentioned, many middle-of-the-night visitors do not make for a good night’s sleep. As our surgeon told us, “Hospitals are not places to rest . . . you rest when you get home.” It also seemed that there was a limited supply of hot water when it came to a morning shower, which rendered caffeine almost unnecessary!

With Whitney, who is also an R.N., accompanying us on our trek home and helping us transition into “recovery life”, arriving back in our home was a bit of a softer landing. Watching her care for you in areas like pain management, nausea, and meals in the first couple of days gave me pretty good footing for what would be ahead.

Probably the most difficult aspect of this is watching a person who you love and who you’ve spent your life with, who is an exceptionally strong person of mind and spirit, be as weak and helpless as the disease and subsequent surgery rendered you (Mel). That’s been wrenching. Not knowing how long this recovery will take or what a “new normal” might look like 6 months or a year from now is also daunting. We’ve heard so often about friends or loved ones whose lives changed with the receiving of a phone call. That scenario always seemed so distant . . . so “not us”. But this IS us, and we know that God is still in control and knew before the creation of the world that this diagnosis would take place. The choice is to trust Him, lean on Him, rely on Him, rest in Him, and collapse on Him.

Mel: You know, along those lines, I have to say that having so many physical vulnerabilities right now – having you check my big ole scar to make sure it’s healing well, exposing my hairless head for you to see, having you present during the difficult side effects – those things have knit us even tighter, haven’t they? There are times I just want to be Mrs. Dick Tunney – a “normal wife”, and this isn’t the season for that. But you give me such grace. I know you love me so deeply and you tell me I’m beautiful all the time. Hard for me to believe, but so, so good for me to hear. You can’t plan for any of this, but I’m grateful to see how you have risen above-and-beyond in this role!

I know you reached out to other friends who have walked this path. What is some of the best advice you’ve received?

Dick: One friend told me when going to doctor’s appointments to be sure to remember that I would be the second set of ears to hear whatever news was coming our way. There are times when the recipient of a diagnosis hears a few things the doctor says, and then “checks out” to solve 12 problems that this diagnosis will bring. But to drink in the entire conversation, note it, process it and be sure that I heard what I heard was a great piece of advice.

Also, another reminded me to be sure to care for myself during the process. Mel was great during a couple of the 7-hour chemo drips to encourage me to have lunch with a friend . . . away from the clinic. And I did, and it was like breathing clean air. Nothing changed in our circumstances, but having a meal with a friend who is a great listener gave me a chance to regurgitate how life was treating us at the time. These gentlemen were angels unaware, so needed, and so appreciated.

Mel: And what advice would you give others?

Dick: Community is such an important and maybe under-valued part of being a member of the Body of Christ. In our short time living in Bowling Green, we’ve connected to a wonderful church whose staff and some lay folks have not just prayed for us but have gotten their hands dirty to come to our assistance both before the surgery and after. Meals, cards, texts of encouragement . . . one person from our church heard that recovery times like ours would benefit from having a nice recliner for you to rest and even sleep in. So she purchased a very nice recliner, came by with her son, unboxed it and set it all up. (It’s a great one, too . . . motorized movements, heat, massage, the works!). Back to advice – stay connected in a Bible-believing community.

Secondly, find folks who have walked this path before you and glean from them. I had either phone chats or meals with 3 or 4 gentlemen whose wives have endured bouts with cancer. Their insights were invaluable.

Finally, continue to bombard the Throne Room with prayer. Nothing is too small to pray over. Stay in the Word, and pray, pray, pray.

And we both know that this journey will not end when you (Mel) “ring the bell”. We’re certain that there will be folks who cross our paths in the coming years who we will be able to walk alongside through their journeys with cancer. There will come a day when we won’t be the “takers” from our church body, but the “givers” also. Will there be scars? Of course . . . physical, emotional and spiritual. But we will choose to think of those scars as markers of God’s faithfulness and catalysts to help others who may receive similar diagnoses to ours. I think that’s how the Body of Christ works, right?

Mel: Yes, it does. And this is also a picture of how marriage is supposed to work. Going back to the vows we said to each other 46 years ago, I see how you are living these out with purpose, with grace, and with such loving care for me. Thanks, babe. ❤️

P.S. – Before the diagnosis, we had been searching the internet for just the right cruise to hop on to celebrate a very busy year (2025) and our December anniversary. There is still a file on my computer desktop labeled “Cruise ideas”. God obviously had other plans for us, than taking one right now. But once the bell has been rung . . . watch for Dick and Mel to get on a ship and sail the high seas! This is our chapter now. But it’s not our forever chapter.