Because there is no normal.
No one's person's journey is the same. But I do believe that our underlying feelings are the same - fear, uncertainty, loss of innocence, feelings of not belonging, etc. All that can lead to a change in character. Then add the poison that is the treatment. And nausea. And diarrhea. And bone pain. And fatigue like you have never experienced before. Etc. Etc. Etc. It is a wonder we make it out even slightly normal.
This is dedicated to all the spouses, mothers, children, friends who have helped someone through treatment.
Dear Husband,
I think about how much I love you EVERY SINGLE day. I think about how wonderful you have been throughout this whole, horrible ordeal. You have been nothing but supportive. You, who HAS to fix things, had to just watch me go through pain. Just watch me and feel helpless. There wasn't anything you could do to fix this one. You ran to the store for my prescriptions and numerous other pills to deal with the side effects of chemo and radiation. One time, at 1 am, after I had endured 4 hours of debilitating stomach cramps, you headed to the store for Imodium. You watched the kids when all I could do was stay in bed, not moving, hoping I didn't get sick. You drove me to all my surgeries, said prayers with me, and then had to wait by yourself. Worrying about me. You helped me shave my head even though I saw it was killing you to do so. You ALWAYS look at me with love and lust. Even though my body is misshapen from numerous surgeries. You did so many loads of laundry when I couldn't. You made me dinner and put it on a nice tray. You even put flowers on that tray when you could. When I did feel well enough to handle the kids and the house while you went to work, you called and checked on me. You came home - pretending you needed to come home for something other than to make sure I was okay - early to be with us. You held me hand when I was in pain. You dried my tears when I was hurting and scared. You called my friends over to make me laugh when all I was doing was rolling my eyes at you or snapping answers to your questions. You always came home and, before you did anything else, you gave me a hug and a kiss.
And I also think about how much I have beaten you up. Because I know you love me so much, I trusted that you would still love me even after you saw the ugly part of me. (That fact came out in therapy. That is why our spouses get the worst of it.) The ugly part that yelled at you that I didn't want any more food, even though you just wanted to make sure my body had some fuel. When my body was wracked with bone pain and stomach pain and just all over pain, I snapped at you when you asked if I wanted to come outside with the you and the boys. You thought it would help and I just yelled. Ugly. When you suggested a car ride to get out of the house, I yelled very sarcastically, "My body hurts! Can you guarantee that you won't hit any bumps?!" When you asked if I had taken my medicine, because you wanted to help, I meanly said, "Of course I did! I am not a child." Ugly. Ugly. When my brain was so messed up from the mets and the steroids and the radiation, I just yelled at you. The reason doesn't matter. I just yelled. One morning, when my brain was really bad, I couldn't send an email. The keyboard didn't make sense. You came down stairs and I just yelled. Ugly words about how I couldn't get my computer to work. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. I heard it, told myself to stop, but I couldn't. And you calmly said that you would do it for me. When I couldn't even remember what day it was and got the family schedule completely turned around, you hugged me and told me it was fine. It wasn't fine.
I knew it wasn't fine. But I couldn't stop. I told myself to stop being so mean. To stop being someone I wouldn't even hang out with. EVER. But I couldn't stop. Yes, I know, the drugs contributed, my lack of sleep was contributing, my constant headaches were contributing, etc, etc. But I realized what I was doing. I thought about it EVERY SINGLE day and, yet, I continued to do it. And I am so very sorry.
And because of the amazing person that you, you will say it is fine and you understand. But you are human. There is no way you could have totally understood why this person that you love is being this way to you. Or not have been affected by it. I have left scars. A few big ones. And that is what kills me. Scars are forever.
But....
So are we. That is the positive that has come out of this. I know that you are not going anywhere. You are here to fight right along side of me. Thank you for picking up your shield and running straight at this with me.
Scars are forever. But so are we. I will spend the rest of OUR forever kissing those scars so they don't hurt as much. And I hope soon that your face won't look wounded when I talk to you. I promise that I will improve myself every day. I will strive to be as wonderful to you as you have been for the last three years. Because I think about how much I love you EVERY SINGLE day. You should feel that EVERY SINGLE day.
During the last three years, I felt your love EVERY SINGLE day even though my demeanor didn't show it. But I felt it. My goal is for you to feel my love EVERY SINGLE day until we are 90.
This journey has been ugly. I have been ugly. But I am trying to stop. I don't want to be ugly to you. I just want to love you. I am sorry that my words and actions don't always portray that. Especially since your actions have done nothing but show how much you love me.
Thank you for being an amazing husband. Thank you for taking care of me during my surgeries and treatments and crazy thoughts. I could not imagine going through this with anyone else but you. You. My beautiful husband who took care of me and continues to do so EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
I love you. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
Love, Your Wife
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| One of my favorite pictures...when I was nicer. |
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