In Sickness and in Health

Tomorrow will be eight weeks since my initial diagnosis.  I have “officially” had cancer for 55 days.  It’s amazing how much can happen in such a short period.  Things are beginning to look a little brighter.    As our nation celebrates its independence this weekend, I will be celebrating my own personal freedom from radiation and chemotherapy.  I’m down to my last two days of treatment, and I’m looking forward to a 6-8 week break.

I’m hopeful that within a few weeks, my body will begin to heal. With a little luck, I will be able to enjoy some of the summer with my family before surgery sidelines me in early September.

Ok – update is over. It’s time to get to what’s really on my mind.

I’ve noticed something interesting over the past two months.  Whenever friends and family call to check in or offer support, they first ask how I’m doing.  That makes sense.  Then after a little chitchat, they ask how the kids are coping.  This is also a reasonable inquiry.  What’s interesting is that very few people ask how Gregg is holding up through all of this. 

I suppose it’s not unusual for the spouse of someone with cancer to take a bit of a background role during the whole experience.  It’s easy to overlook that Gregg’s world also fell apart on May 5^th. I will never forget the sight of him when the doctor told us the bad news.  His face lost all color; he leaned back against the wall; and he slowly slid down until his head rested on his knees.  He told me later he had to do this to keep from passing out.

In some ways, I think this experience is actually harder on him than it is on me.  Gregg is a doer.  He sets a goal, makes a plan, and gets things done.  He’s also a fixer.  I can’t begin to count the number of things he has repaired and restored over the years.  Unfortunately, he can’t do anything about my illness.  Cancer has relegated him to the sidelines. I know if our roles were reversed, I’d be a wreck.  I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it would be to watch him suffer through something like this and know I couldn’t make it “all better”. He can support me; he can love me; he can comfort me; but he can’t fix me. 

Let me tell you, the support, love, and comfort he provides are what get me through each day.  Many an afternoon he has come home from work to find me exhausted and uncomfortable on the couch. He simply takes over from there. I’ve heard many men refer to caring for their children as “babysitting”.  Gregg knows that if the kids are his, it isn’t babysitting; it’s parenting.

I wrote in an earlier post that Gregg has always done more than his fair share in our home.  Now he carries his load and most of mine as well.  I also wrote that 90% of the time I’m ok, but the other 10% I’m a raving lunatic.  Poor Gregg gets the brunt of my lunacy, and he accepts it with calm and patient understanding.

I doubt when we exchanged vows all those years ago, Gregg could imagine what married life had in store for him.  The promise of “in sickness and in health” is noble and romantic, but it’s also vague.  The everyday reality of living with an ill spouse is hard work.  Gregg has had to step up and help me in ways I never could have, or wanted to, envision. 

Cancer has also disrupted other aspects of our marriage.  Radiation therapy affects not only my lower digestive tract, but also everything else below my waist.   I’m sincerely hoping that this particular side effect is the first to remedy itself, and I’m sure Gregg shares this sentiment.

Mind you, Gregg hasn’t articulated any of this to me.  He’s been keeping his feelings to himself in typical Gregg fashion. I’m guessing he doesn’t want to “burden” me, so I’m relying of my wifely intuition right now.  After more than 20 years together, I’ve earned the right to make a few assumptions about his state of mind. 

I just hope he knows, (and he will after reading this) how amazing I think he is and how much I love him.