About Gerry K
Six years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My husband was my rock, my chauffeur to every appointment, and the best foot massager, as I went through months of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation. He told me I looked beautiful, even with my bald head, and he comforted and supported me when my mother passed away during the months of my treatment. But now it’s my turn to be the strong one. Two years ago, Tim was diagnosed with Stage 4 prostate cancer with bone metastases. He’s been undergoing treatment and, as each one fails, we feel our balloons of hope deflate just a bit more. My husband is a retired Deputy Chief from the Jersey City Fire Department. He was a first responder during 9/11, which is believed to be a contributing factor for his aggressive prostate cancer. This man, who spent 37 years in service to others and bravely ran into buildings as others were fleeing, now has to face the biggest fight of his life. The only time I see him give into tears and his fears of this terminal disease is when he talks of leaving me, our three sons, and five grandchildren behind. We have been together since our teens; married for more than 47 years. He promises me 50, but I’m not sure we’ll attain that milestone. He’s my hero, my best friend, and truly the love of my life. We know that research is providing new and better medicines to treat prostate cancer and so we cling to the hope that, though not curable, his cancer will continue to remain treatable.