Sunday, May 22, 2016

I know

I know you're scared.

I've been there.

Not exactly. But pretty darn close.

I know the fear in your gut.

In your heart.

It's hearing from your doctor: "You have cancer."

You knew that he was going to say it before you got to his office. You just didn't know specifics. 

The good news: you're not shocked.

The bad news: where do I start?

The unknown is always the biggest fear. 


Big time.

Not hip replacement.

But it's a big deal because, where the incisions will be, it's an incredibly sensitive part of your body.

Your mouth. 

Your neck. 

And you're scared. 

Of the pain. 

Of the staging. 

And the lymph nodes. 

It's horrifying to think about. 

I know. 

I know that it feels like a bad dream from which you cannot wake up. 

I know that our family has been hit harder than most families. 

I know you don't want to go through it again. Put the boys through it again. Put me through it, albeit from a different perspective this time. 

I love you. 

I know that no matter how many times I put on a brave face and a smile for you, I was scared. 

But I never truly felt like I was going to die. 

I know I was confident. And that you are too. 

I know that the boys will make you crazy.

But they'll also keep you moving forward.

I know you'll have no appetite. That you'll force yourself to eat. 

I still have to sit down and make myself eat. Because sometimes I just don't feel like eating.   

I know that how I dealt with my cancer, I set the bar high. I was, and am, thankful for so much. That it was caught early. That we have such incredible support from our friends who have become our family. 

Thankful for our health insurance. 

Thankful I survived. 

I know what kept me moving forward was doing what was healthy and right for me. 

I slept. 

A lot. 

Sometimes for several days in a row. Because that's how my chemo affected me. 

Pretty much every week, you took me and the boys and went to the lake...or the ocean. The water was therapeutic for me. 

I was willing to ask for and accept help. Those are not easy things for me to do. 

I took time to see beauty in everyday. Even the days I had absolutely no energy, and all I could do was lay in bed, sip water, take my anti-nausea meds, and get up to go pee...the beauty was Nathan reading to me...hearing Isaac laugh...or just having the sun shining brightly through the window. 

I gave myself something big to look forward to each month. Book club (duh!). Sam coming up to visit. 

And aside from kicking your cancer in the ass, I know that what I want for you: 

I know you need to do whatever it is to feel healthy. 




To keep moving forward. 

I have confidence in you. 

You are a tenacious man. It was one of the first things I saw in you, over twenty years ago, when you walked in to the classroom to teach at NAU. 

I have faith that what we are going through is teaching our sons that we are strong, not only as individuals but as a couple. 

We're also teaching them that they are loved. They are supported. And they are cherished. 

All my love always, 

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