Days Like These: A life cut short by cancer, a love that touched the world
When Kristian Anderson received the diagnosis that every devoted husband and father fears, he refused to resign himself silently to fate.He began a brave and candid blog as he underwent treatment for cancer: sharing the joy of each small victory, the devastation in every setback, and the agonising realisation that he wouldn’t always be able to protect and comfort his little boys when they were lonely or afraid, or grow old with his wife and soulmate.His posts full of hope, faith, and breathtaking honesty captured Australian hearts, then swept across the Pacific, gathering followers. A poignant video tribute for his wife Rachel became an internet phenomenon, attracting messages from well-wishers across the globe.After his death, their love inspired Rachel to bring together Kristian’s blog entries combined with her own intimate reflections. Days Like These is a heartbreaking account of her husband’s final battle, his strength and courage, but it is also a story about coming back from grief, and learning how to live again.
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For Cody Israel and Jakob Judah.It was all for you.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in
LEONARD COHEN, ‘ANTHEM’
My name is Rachel Anderson and I am Kristian Anderson’s wife. I will not say ‘was’, even though Kristian left this life on 2 January 2012.
Kristian was my husband, the father of our two boys Cody and Jakob, a television editor, musician, man of faith. Through the last two years of his life Kristian did battle with cancer in his bowel and liver. His way of keeping his friends and family updated with what was happening with his cancer battle and in our world was through his blog, How the Light Gets In (http://howthelightgetsin.net). In choosing the name, Kristian was inspired by Leonard Cohen’s lyrics; he said that the words seemed like a good fit for him at that time in his life.
As it turned out, Kristian’s blog was seen by people far beyond the immediate circle of those who loved him. More than a quarter of a million people paid a visit from all around the globe: he had many visitors from Australia, the United States and New Zealand as well as more than 150 other countries. In the week he died, there were over 450,000 hits on the blog.
Through his last months here, Kristian worked on writing a book that he could leave behind for Cody, Jakob and me, drawing on words and photos from his blog. Now that he is gone, it seemed that one way we could honour his memory was to make sure this book came to be.
So here it is. I hope that it will be a blessing to the many who loved and supported Kristian through the time he was with us.
Rachel Anderson
February 2012
Let me bring you up to speed.
I have cancer.
In the bowel and liver.
I am 34 years old.
I have a beautiful wife and two boys under three years of age.
NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS?
Friday 2 October
After travelling to the USA for a friend’s wedding during the last week of September 2009, I arrived back in Sydney with the usual jetlag associated with a 13-hour flight. I didn’t think much of it and continued on with my work schedule.
Went in to work to tidy up the edit suite. Did a little bit of file archiving. Shut the suite down at the mains, as I was about to start an eight-week contract as one of the editors on Come Dine With Me Australia at another editing facility at Fox Studios.
Saturday 3 October
Headed out to do some demo recordings with a young Newcastle band at The Grove Studios. Tracking was basic but successful and we got what we wanted.
‘YOU GO SEE THE DOCTOR, DAD’
Those were the words of my three-year-old son, Cody. He had asked me if I was OK, as he often does, and I had replied that I had a sore tummy.
Monday 5 October
Public holiday. Woke up at 12 a.m. with what I thought was a nasty stitch in my side. You know, the kind you get when you go out running. Quite a bit of discomfort but just tried to ignore it. No relief by 5 p.m. so off to the doctor’s surgery I go, with a stern but loving sendoff from Rachel and Cody. Went to Warringah Mall Medical Centre and for the first time in 10 years got a doctor who seemed genuinely interested in treating me. Turns out he is taking an online songwriting course at Berklee College of Music in Boston and is a bit of a music/audio nut. We got along great. Doc says I may have deep vein thrombosis due to recent air travel, but since I mentioned I have also been getting a little blood in my bowel movements he refers me to emergency and another specialist.
6 p.m.: I am admitted to Manly Hospital, scans are ordered and by 11 p.m. it is determined I have a blood clot on my lungs. I am given blood-thinning medication immediately and ordered to stay overnight.
D-DAY (DIAGNOSIS DAY)
From here on out everything in our lives has been separated by this day … before diagnosis/after diagnosis. This is a marker we can’t ignore, much as we would like to.
Tuesday 6 October
After a night of almost no sleep (emergency ward, lights on all night) I chat with the nurses who advise me my treatment will be simple, just a daily injection of Warfarin (blood thinner) and a daily blood sample. Six months’ worth should do it. Resign myself to the fact that I will have to do it and decide to discharge myself, against doctor’s wishes.
Q: Why would I discharge myself if the doc said not to?
A: I work for myself and was already missing the first day of an eight-week contract. Not a good look for a new client, even though they were aware of the situation and very understanding.
Tried to check out but then nearly passed out, so was ordered to stay.
Because I tried to leave they gave my room to another patient and now I’m sitting in the corridor. Rachel arrives about an hour later with Jakob in tow; Cody is at kindergarten.
