Cancer
Everyone's fear. She noticed a little bump where one wasn't supposed to be. Friends and I laughed it off, knowing the odds were with us, that this was nothing or less. We were wrong. Stage IV, spread to lungs, liver, bones.
Now we're a year and a half into chemo, radiation, hair loss, tears, offers of "anything you need, let me know," while the insidious molecules spread and shrink just under her skin.
She is a warrior, way stronger than even I thought when I asked her to spend the rest of her life with me. I've been with her while doctors have uttered words to her that would send 99.9% of us reeling into the void, and she just nods and asks about the next step, ready to face whatever they decide to put her through.
Not to say she hasn't broken down. Sometimes the facade cracks. Those times have been the hardest for me. What bright thing could I say that would outshine the darkness that is killing her from the inside out? The usual platitude, "Don't worry, it will get better," is a contemptuous, vapid untruth. The best I can muster is, "What can I get you to eat?"
"Just be there" is what I'm told, and I am there, but my presence isn't improving anything but the warmth of the tissues she uses to wipe her tears. But for her, once the moment has passed and the tears have dried, she's back to smiling, laughing, cuddling and loving me. Her strength holds me up, and I hope that strength will outlast this disease.
To dwell on the diagnosis is to get sucked into a black hole, but how can you not? With other diseases I've dealt with in my (short) life, you focus on getting better until you do, then go back to your normal life. With cancer, and I imagine other chronic diseases, you're expected to continue on with your life while also focusing on getting better, otherwise, the disease you're fighting takes over your life, and you want to be defined as more than just a patient. So you try, you have conversations about things other than cancer and treatment, you work, you save for retirement, the whole while trying not to let the giant malignant elephant you're trying to keep out of your thoughts from trumpeting its stubborn presence.
How does this end?
Now we're a year and a half into chemo, radiation, hair loss, tears, offers of "anything you need, let me know," while the insidious molecules spread and shrink just under her skin.
She is a warrior, way stronger than even I thought when I asked her to spend the rest of her life with me. I've been with her while doctors have uttered words to her that would send 99.9% of us reeling into the void, and she just nods and asks about the next step, ready to face whatever they decide to put her through.
Not to say she hasn't broken down. Sometimes the facade cracks. Those times have been the hardest for me. What bright thing could I say that would outshine the darkness that is killing her from the inside out? The usual platitude, "Don't worry, it will get better," is a contemptuous, vapid untruth. The best I can muster is, "What can I get you to eat?"
"Just be there" is what I'm told, and I am there, but my presence isn't improving anything but the warmth of the tissues she uses to wipe her tears. But for her, once the moment has passed and the tears have dried, she's back to smiling, laughing, cuddling and loving me. Her strength holds me up, and I hope that strength will outlast this disease.
To dwell on the diagnosis is to get sucked into a black hole, but how can you not? With other diseases I've dealt with in my (short) life, you focus on getting better until you do, then go back to your normal life. With cancer, and I imagine other chronic diseases, you're expected to continue on with your life while also focusing on getting better, otherwise, the disease you're fighting takes over your life, and you want to be defined as more than just a patient. So you try, you have conversations about things other than cancer and treatment, you work, you save for retirement, the whole while trying not to let the giant malignant elephant you're trying to keep out of your thoughts from trumpeting its stubborn presence.
How does this end?
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