We Planned Our Future Together. Then I Had To Watch My Husband Die

U.S.NewsPoliticsAI PoliticsTechFact CheckSportsGlobalIran WarRussia-UkraineMiddle EastChina And AsiaLive BlogBetter PlanetAll World NewsLifestyleFamily & ParentingEntertainmentTravelPetsAutomotiveRelationshipsScienceHealthPersonal FinanceBetter WorkplacesReaders ChoiceOpinionMy TurnAll OpinionRankingsHealthCorporate ResponsibilityFinanceProductsEducationWorkAll RankingsWatchThe 1600The Royal ReportUnconventionalFrom The PaddockNewsmakersSocialFacebookInstagramYouTubeRedditTikTokTwitter/XExtraNewslettersDare to DreamEventsEssaysPodcastsVantageInsightsMagazineCEO CircleAnnouncementsLeadershipDev Pragad At the age of 16, there is so much to be figured out. Who will you become? What will the future hold? Of course, no one knows the answer to those questions, but there was one thing I knew for sure, and that was who would be the love of my life. Rudy Valladares and I were high school sweethearts, and I knew that whatever I chose to do in the future, he would be by my side. Rudy was one of the funniest people I ever met. He was quick-witted, sarcastic and had a dark sense of humor (which probably explains why we worked so well together). He wasn't overly sentimental or the kind of person who needed a lot of attention, but he had a strong sense of fairness. Rudy always rooted for the underdog and believed strongly in holding people accountable, so after serving as a police officer, he became a detective because he loved helping people. Then there was Rudy outside of work. We have two sons, aged 7 and 3, and nothing else mattered more to Rudy than our boys. He could be playful and silly with them, but he also made sure to teach them important lessons. We were just a normal family doing all the mundane things you assume you’ll get to do forever. But that future isn’t promised. Thought He May Have Injured Himself In January 2024, Rudy’s resting heart rate was unusually high, often around 100 to 120 beats per minute. He also developed persistent back pain, but who doesn’t complain of back pain every now and then? By June 2024, Rudy developed an occasional ache in his testicle, but it was extremely infrequent. He did not have a lump, however, one of his testicles became quite firm. Nonetheless, Rudy exercised regularly and thought he may have injured himself somehow. Over time there were other things that, in hindsight, were probably related, including a lingering cough and a swollen lymph node in his neck. Rudy was in and out of urgent care for months, and doctors originally thought he had digestion issues. They tried treating his symptoms with pain medication, but we grew increasingly frustrated with the lack of answers. By October of that year, Rudy had lost around 50 pounds in a matter of months. We were considering the possibility that he could have late-stage colon cancer and he was days away from a scheduled colonoscopy to find out more. However, the pain became so bad that we rushed to the ER and Rudy underwent a CT scan of his chest, abdomen and pelvis. To our shock, it revealed innumerable tumors throughout his lymph nodes and lungs. Doctors then performed a scrotal ultrasound to identify his testicle as the primary source. Rudy turned 29 on October 11, and the very next day, he was given a diagnosis of stage 3B testicular cancer. He was admitted to the hospital that night and met with Dr. Arjunan, an oncologist who was incredibly thorough. Rudy underwent a radical inguinal orchiectomy, surgery to remove the affected testicle through an incision in the groin. Despite how terrifying the scans looked, we remained hopeful. Testicular cancer has a very high cure rate, with an 85 percent survival rate among Stage 3 patients. Sure, the fact that he could die was always in the backs of our minds, but we were very confident. We went into treatment believing we were going to get through it. Rudy underwent repeated CT scans, PET scans and had regular lab work done to test his tumor markers. His first line of treatment was four cycles of BEP chemotherapy, which lasted until January 2025. After that, his tumor markers remained normal as of June 2025, so we continued active surveillance. By the following month, Rudy developed a pounding headache that lasted for days. He also seemed slightly confused and forgetful, and I noticed that he wasn’t communicating normally. When pain medication didn’t help, we went straight to the ER. It was there that a head CT revealed a 6-centimeter tumor in his left frontal lobe. I felt devastated, but there was no time to be fearful. The next day, Dr. Patel of Methodist Dallas Medical Center performed a craniotomy to remove it and was confident he got the entire tumor. That, thankfully, put our minds at ease. Even after it reached his brain, we still believed the cancer was curable. His doctor recommended stereotactic radiosurgery, followed by two cycles of high-dose chemotherapies with tandem stem cell transplants. This treatment was much more intense, and Rudy went through it twice between September to November 2025. He dealt with fatigue, nausea, painful mucositis, and appetite loss. His kidneys and liver were stressed, but they ultimately handled the treatment better than expected. Yet, he kept bouncing back. Watching My Husband Die Was Unfathomable In December 2025 and March 2026, there was no evidence of disease and his tumor markers remained in normal range. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t last. By April 2026, I noticed Rudy acting differently again. When I asked him about it, he admitted that he'd had a headache for a day or two. Headaches had never been normal for him before his first brain tumor, so we went back to the ER. Imaging revealed yet another tumor, this time in his cerebellum. Another craniotomy was performed, and postoperative imaging revealed several small tumors throughout his brain. As with before, we immediately looked at treatment options and Rudy underwent more stereotactic radiosurgery. As we got to June 2026, his neck looked swollen and he began having difficulty walking and swallowing. It turned out that Rudy had developed hydrocephalus, an abnormal buildup of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain. The excess fluid was drained, but Rudy never really recovered. He couldn't walk independently, stopped eating regularly and needed help with most things. On July 1, MRIs of Rudy's brain and spine showed devastating progression. The cancer had spread throughout his brain, into soft tissue outside his skull, behind his esophagus, and into his cerebrospinal fluid. He attempted brain and spinal radiation on July 2, but sadly, Rudy died in his sleep on July 4. One of the hardest things for me to comprehend is how quickly we went from trying to treat him, to losing him. He was considered no evidence of disease only a few months earlier. In June, we were still thinking in terms of treatment and recovery. But during his final days, his breathing changed and became the irregular breathing pattern associated with end of life. He also began talking about people who had died. I'm a therapist, so I understand that experiences like that can happen. But watching my 30-year-old husband die was completely unfathomable. Want People to Learn From His Story, Not be Terrified by It For almost two years, every time something happened, there was another option. When we learned that the cancer had spread aggressively, suddenly there wasn't another option. We were both 30, had been together since we were teenagers and had a family. I couldn't comprehend that the person I built my entire life with was going to die. There was almost no time to process it either. He died just days later. I don’t think either of us could have comprehended that I would become a widow at the age of 30. I understand now how much we take ordinary life for granted. We worked, raised our kids, worried about bills, argued about stupid things and made plans for next year because of course there would be a next year. Then suddenly, there wasn't. People talk about wanting extraordinary lives, but I would give anything to have an ordinary Tuesday with Rudy again. Sitting on the couch, discussing what we're going to eat for dinner, hearing him come through the door, watching him play with our boys. I'm grieving while parenting two children who are also grieving. I don't get to stop functioning. They still need breakfast, school drop-offs, baths, hugs and someone to help them understand why their dad isn't coming home. Cancer is part of Rudy's story because unfortunately it changed our lives, but I don't want it to become the most important thing about him. I want people to remember the person behind the scans, surgeries and treatments. He was a person before cancer. He was somebody's best friend, coworker, son, my husband and our boys' dad. Rudy was passionate about spreading awareness for testicular cancer. After his death, I started sharing more of Rudy’s story on TikTok (@alwayshisgirl64). The response made me realize how many men don't think testicular cancer could affect them. I want men to know their bodies and perform self-exams. If something changes, whether that's a lump, swelling, heaviness, aching or something that feels different, get it checked instead of dismissing it or feeling embarrassed. Rudy's story illustrates how deceptive the symptoms can be. His occasional testicular ache wasn't even close to being his most noticeable symptom. But there's another part that's extremely important to remember: Rudy's story is not the typical outcome for testicular cancer. Rudy was incredibly unlucky. I want people to learn from his story, not be terrified by it. Testicular cancers are highly responsive to chemotherapy and have exceptionally high cure rates. If his story makes another young man seek medical attention sooner, then Rudy is still helping people. He would be incredibly proud of that. Jessica Valladares, 30, resides in Midlothian, Texas, with her two sons. Following Rudy’s death in July, Jessica has been raising awareness for testicular cancer on social media (@alwayshisgirl64 on TikTok).10Loading video…By Jessica Valladares0ShareNewsweek is a Trust Project memberSee more of our trusted coverage when you search.Prefer Newsweek on Googleto see more of our trusted coverage when you search.At the age of 16, there is so much to be figured out. Who will you become? What will the future hold?

Of course, no one knows the answer to those questions, but there was one thing I knew for sure, and that was who would be the love of my life. Rudy Valladares and I were high school sweethearts, and I knew that whatever I chose to do in the future, he would be by my side.

Rudy was one of the funniest people I ever met. He was quick-witted, sarcastic and had a dark sense of humor (which probably explains why we worked so well together).

He wasn’t overly sentimental or the kind of person who needed a lot of attention, but he had a strong sense of fairness. Rudy always rooted for the underdog and believed strongly in holding people accountable, so after serving as a police officer, he became a detective because he loved helping people.

Then there was Rudy outside of work. We have two sons, aged 7 and 3, and nothing else mattered more to Rudy than our boys. He could be playful and silly with them, but he also made sure to teach them important lessons.

We were just a normal family doing all the mundane things you assume you’ll get to do forever.

In January 2024, Rudy’s resting heart rate was unusually high, often around 100 to 120 beats per minute. He also developed persistent back pain, but who doesn’t complain of back pain every now and then?

By June 2024, Rudy developed an occasional ache in his testicle, but it was extremely infrequent. He did not have a lump, however, one of his testicles became quite firm. Nonetheless, Rudy exercised regularly and thought he may have injured himself somehow.

Over time there were other things that, in hindsight, were probably related, including a lingering cough and a swollen lymph node in his neck.

Rudy was in and out of urgent care for months, and doctors originally thought he had digestion issues. They tried treating his symptoms with pain medication, but we grew increasingly frustrated with the lack of answers.

By October of that year, Rudy had lost around 50 pounds in a matter of months. We were considering the possibility that he could have late-stage colon cancer and he was days away from a scheduled colonoscopy to find out more.

However, the pain became so bad that we rushed to the ER and Rudy underwent a CT scan of his chest, abdomen and pelvis. To our shock, it revealed innumerable tumors throughout his lymph nodes and lungs. Doctors then performed a scrotal ultrasound to identify his testicle as the primary source.

Rudy turned 29 on October 11, and the very next day, he was given a diagnosis of stage 3B testicular cancer. He was admitted to the hospital that night and met with Dr. Arjunan, an oncologist who was incredibly thorough.

Rudy underwent a radical inguinal orchiectomy, surgery to remove the affected testicle through an incision in the groin. Despite how terrifying the scans looked, we remained hopeful. Testicular cancer has a very high cure rate, with an 85 percent survival rate among Stage 3 patients.

Sure, the fact that he could die was always in the backs of our minds, but we were very confident. We went into treatment believing we were going to get through it.

Rudy underwent repeated CT scans, PET scans and had regular lab work done to test his tumor markers. His first line of treatment was four cycles of BEP chemotherapy, which lasted until January 2025.

After that, his tumor markers remained normal as of June 2025, so we continued active surveillance.

By the following month, Rudy developed a pounding headache that lasted for days. He also seemed slightly confused and forgetful, and I noticed that he wasn’t communicating normally. When pain medication didn’t help, we went straight to the ER.

It was there that a head CT revealed a 6-centimeter tumor in his left frontal lobe.

I felt devastated, but there was no time to be fearful.

The next day, Dr. Patel of Methodist Dallas Medical Center performed a craniotomy to remove it and was confident he got the entire tumor. That, thankfully, put our minds at ease.

Even after it reached his brain, we still believed the cancer was curable. His doctor recommended stereotactic radiosurgery, followed by two cycles of high-dose chemotherapies with tandem stem cell transplants.

This treatment was much more intense, and Rudy went through it twice between September to November 2025. He dealt with fatigue, nausea, painful mucositis, and appetite loss. His kidneys and liver were stressed, but they ultimately handled the treatment better than expected.

In December 2025 and March 2026, there was no evidence of disease and his tumor markers remained in normal range.

By April 2026, I noticed Rudy acting differently again. When I asked him about it, he admitted that he’d had a headache for a day or two. Headaches had never been normal for him before his first brain tumor, so we went back to the ER.

Imaging revealed yet another tumor, this time in his cerebellum.

Another craniotomy was performed, and postoperative imaging revealed several small tumors throughout his brain. As with before, we immediately looked at treatment options and Rudy underwent more stereotactic radiosurgery.

As we got to June 2026, his neck looked swollen and he began having difficulty walking and swallowing. It turned out that Rudy had developed hydrocephalus, an abnormal buildup of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain. The excess fluid was drained, but Rudy never really recovered. He couldn’t walk independently, stopped eating regularly and needed help with most things.

On July 1, MRIs of Rudy’s brain and spine showed devastating progression.

The cancer had spread throughout his brain, into soft tissue outside his skull, behind his esophagus, and into his cerebrospinal fluid.

He attempted brain and spinal radiation on July 2, but sadly, Rudy died in his sleep on July 4.

One of the hardest things for me to comprehend is how quickly we went from trying to treat him, to losing him. He was considered no evidence of disease only a few months earlier.

In June, we were still thinking in terms of treatment and recovery. But during his final days, his breathing changed and became the irregular breathing pattern associated with end of life. He also began talking about people who had died.

I’m a therapist, so I understand that experiences like that can happen. But watching my 30-year-old husband die was completely unfathomable.

For almost two years, every time something happened, there was another option.

When we learned that the cancer had spread aggressively, suddenly there wasn’t another option. We were both 30, had been together since we were teenagers and had a family. I couldn’t comprehend that the person I built my entire life with was going to die.

There was almost no time to process it either. He died just days later.

I don’t think either of us could have comprehended that I would become a widow at the age of 30.

I understand now how much we take ordinary life for granted. We worked, raised our kids, worried about bills, argued about stupid things and made plans for next year because of course there would be a next year.

People talk about wanting extraordinary lives, but I would give anything to have an ordinary Tuesday with Rudy again. Sitting on the couch, discussing what we’re going to eat for dinner, hearing him come through the door, watching him play with our boys.

I’m grieving while parenting two children who are also grieving. I don’t get to stop functioning. They still need breakfast, school drop-offs, baths, hugs and someone to help them understand why their dad isn’t coming home.

Cancer is part of Rudy’s story because unfortunately it changed our lives, but I don’t want it to become the most important thing about him. I want people to remember the person behind the scans, surgeries and treatments.

He was a person before cancer. He was somebody’s best friend, coworker, son, my husband and our boys’ dad.

Rudy was passionate about spreading awareness for testicular cancer. After his death, I started sharing more of Rudy’s story on TikTok (@alwayshisgirl64). The response made me realize how many men don’t think testicular cancer could affect them.

I want men to know their bodies and perform self-exams. If something changes, whether that’s a lump, swelling, heaviness, aching or something that feels different, get it checked instead of dismissing it or feeling embarrassed.

Rudy’s story illustrates how deceptive the symptoms can be. His occasional testicular ache wasn’t even close to being his most noticeable symptom.

But there’s another part that’s extremely important to remember: Rudy’s story is not the typical outcome for testicular cancer. Rudy was incredibly unlucky.

I want people to learn from his story, not be terrified by it. Testicular cancers are highly responsive to chemotherapy and have exceptionally high cure rates.

If his story makes another young man seek medical attention sooner, then Rudy is still helping people. He would be incredibly proud of that.

Jessica Valladares, 30, resides in Midlothian, Texas, with her two sons. Following Rudy’s death in July, Jessica has been raising awareness for testicular cancer on social media (@alwayshisgirl64 on TikTok).