I miss my husband

That's all...

I miss my life

I used to have a live; a real one with some promise. I was an attorney and had dreams for the future of my career. I planned to change the world.

And then it all fell apart. Even when things were rough, there was always hope that the future would hold something better.

Now I've traded in suits and courtrooms for jeans and doctors' offices. My future consists of making it through one more day. And some days that can be a real challenge. I
used to have a man who adored me and now I'm alone every night.

I miss my old life. I miss my husband. I miss my career. I miss my health. I miss my future.

Back pain

For the past two weeks I've has pretty intense back pain. I've had this type of lower back pain before, but none of the "usual" fixes seem to be working. Of course, being the good patient I am, I reported this to my oncologist. And because he is the thorough oncologist that he is, he sent me for an MRI. I had the scan today and fortunately the results do not show cancer. Whew...

But the pain is still here and I need to figure out how to get rid of this pain. I have a massage tomorrow and I will get a copy of the MRI report on Monday and start the search for back pain relief. I really hope I can find a relatively easy way to get this episode under control so that I can enjoy my chemo-free week.

Pain has got to be one of the hardest issues I've dealt with on this cancer journey. Pain makes me crazy and makes everything else seem so much worse. I have been feeling good and so this pain thing is cramping my style. I just want a bit of relief so that I can enjoy my days. Is that too much to ask?

His arms

Today I watched a couple sitting across the room from me in the waiting room at the cancer institute. Like many who wait there, they looked tired, perhaps from a long day of tests and waiting for results. It was the woman who had cancer. You could see it in the wrinkles on her face and the weariness in her eyes. At first I thought that the man with her might be her son as he looked considerably younger than she. But all thoughts of that retreated when I saw the tenderness with which he held her. He had his arm draped again the back of the sofa, drawing her into his protective embrace. And she had a peaceful smile on her face as she closed her eyes and rested her head upon his shoulder. One that you might expect to see while relaxing on a sunny beach or when listening to moving music, but certain not in an oncologist's waiting room. I couldn't help but smile at them, thankful that the woman had at least those seeming moments of peace or those strong arms around her. But I also couldn't help feeling sad as I sat in the waiting room alone.

I was once a half of a couple like that. One part of a whole. I fit perfectly in the crook of his arm, even with my largeness compared to his sinewy frame. That crook was my safe place. A place that I could smile even while curled up next to him in a hospital bed. Our entwined fingers created a bond that held us together and would not be broken, except by the sneaky shadow of death. Together we were a force to be reckoned with, a firm foundation, with one of us being the stronger one when the other one needed to be vulnerable. We were a safe haven for each other, a home like no other, where love always won in the end. Well, until love was no longer enough to keep death from coming in, when all of the bargains and extensions had been traded in, when there was nothing left to hold but a lifeless hand that was no longer my husband.

Some nights when I can't sleep I imagine that he is there holding me. I recall the way that he liked to drape his right leg over my body and snuggle his head against my shoulder. I picture his hand cupping my cheek and his lips gently kissing away tears as they ran down my face. I try to replicate the way I held him in his hospital bed after I decided to take him off of life support. I close my eyes as tightly as I can abs try to strike a deal with God, with the Universe, with anyone that will listen. I'll do anything I plead, anything, to have him back. I tell myself that if I believe hard enough, that if I tell myself it will be so and believe it, I will wake up and find him there. But that doesn't happen. Maybe because it is simply impossible or maybe because I don't believe it enough. In the end it doesn't matter. He is gone, and at least for now, I'm still here. I admit it feels like a cruel joke sometimes--the love of my life is taken away and I am told that I must continue living and eventually move forward. Then only 5 months into the baby steps forward, I am diagnosed with cancer. At first it looked manageable--so I would just have to endure this with out him, but eventually I would move forward, have a new life, start over. Only to have that reality ripped out from under me with a stage IV diagnosis and decreasingly likelihood that my cancer is going to be receptive to anything we throw at it. So the story looks like it may end like this: girl loses love of her live, girl suffers through 2 years of cancer treatment without him. Then girl dies. Why couldn't someone have had mercy on me and just let me die with him so that I did not have to endure this suffering?

I don't know, so I do all that I know how to do (stolen from Sleepless in Seattle), get out of bed every morning [and] breath in and out all day...