I can't believe we are doing this again. On Tuesday, Ryan will, for the third time, endure surgery on his face in order to have a tumor removed. When he went through the first surgery, we braced for the worst. After four hours in the operating room and then several weeks of radiation treatments, we were sure we would never hear the word "cancer" again unless talking in the past tense.
But, on New Year's Eve we brought in 2008 with yet another surgery because we had discovered another lump on his face. "It is just something that happens," we were told. No radiation treatment was needed, but it was still grueling. How many times would this happen?
Well, three months after his surgery at the beginning of the year, another lump was found on his face; practically in the same place where he had his tumor removed previously. It was time for a biopsy, doctor's appointments, MRI and the explanation of what needed to be done next. Another surgery and another blip in our lives caused by cancer. It was hard enough to believe we were dealing with cancer so soon in our lives, but dealing with it three times now, we feel like old hats at this point; something I would never feel at the age of 32.
Now we may be veterans of the war against cancer, but it never stops being scary. It never stops worrying me and draining away my husband's beautiful carefree smile. And, perhaps the worse part about dealing with this illness is that others have such a lack of understanding. They don't really know what to say to us or what to do. Sometimes it becomes frustrating beyond end for me. You can see in their faces -- "should I smile and let her know it will all be okay?" Or, "should I give a look of concern and let her know I am thinking of her?" My advice...just say you will be there when we need you and be genuine about the offer. We'll call you when we need a hug, consoling or help with anything.
To be frank, no one can know what we are going through internally together. And, while I will always accept prayers, thoughts and concerns, nothing can take away the fear. Nothing can take away the fact that everytime my husband has cancer I am facing the possibility of the worst; the possibility of life without my best friend, my soulmate, the other half of my being. No one can truly understand that.
So, life tomorrow will go on as it always does with meetings, obligations, complaints about the mundane, pettiness -- all of the things that don't have as much meaning as the rest of my life, but unfortunately take up the majority of my day. I will spend the evening with the person I love the most, taking in every moment, every second with him. Then on Tuesday, I will go into work once again to work half of the day, acting like my whole life is not on the possible verge of shattering.
What else can I do? My concerns aren't the concerns of others...really. We are an egotistical world where me, I, mine reign. It never is more apparent than when you go through something like this on your own. Ryan and I are on a jagged crag above a canyon on our own. Once Tuesday is over, we will be back on terra firma. But, in the meantime, I am so blessed to have Ryan in my life. I can't imagine facing life's challenges and joys without him.
My sweet, you are in my prayers every day. I thank the Lord for the awesome gift he has given me -- you.
But, on New Year's Eve we brought in 2008 with yet another surgery because we had discovered another lump on his face. "It is just something that happens," we were told. No radiation treatment was needed, but it was still grueling. How many times would this happen?
Well, three months after his surgery at the beginning of the year, another lump was found on his face; practically in the same place where he had his tumor removed previously. It was time for a biopsy, doctor's appointments, MRI and the explanation of what needed to be done next. Another surgery and another blip in our lives caused by cancer. It was hard enough to believe we were dealing with cancer so soon in our lives, but dealing with it three times now, we feel like old hats at this point; something I would never feel at the age of 32.
Now we may be veterans of the war against cancer, but it never stops being scary. It never stops worrying me and draining away my husband's beautiful carefree smile. And, perhaps the worse part about dealing with this illness is that others have such a lack of understanding. They don't really know what to say to us or what to do. Sometimes it becomes frustrating beyond end for me. You can see in their faces -- "should I smile and let her know it will all be okay?" Or, "should I give a look of concern and let her know I am thinking of her?" My advice...just say you will be there when we need you and be genuine about the offer. We'll call you when we need a hug, consoling or help with anything.
To be frank, no one can know what we are going through internally together. And, while I will always accept prayers, thoughts and concerns, nothing can take away the fear. Nothing can take away the fact that everytime my husband has cancer I am facing the possibility of the worst; the possibility of life without my best friend, my soulmate, the other half of my being. No one can truly understand that.
So, life tomorrow will go on as it always does with meetings, obligations, complaints about the mundane, pettiness -- all of the things that don't have as much meaning as the rest of my life, but unfortunately take up the majority of my day. I will spend the evening with the person I love the most, taking in every moment, every second with him. Then on Tuesday, I will go into work once again to work half of the day, acting like my whole life is not on the possible verge of shattering.
What else can I do? My concerns aren't the concerns of others...really. We are an egotistical world where me, I, mine reign. It never is more apparent than when you go through something like this on your own. Ryan and I are on a jagged crag above a canyon on our own. Once Tuesday is over, we will be back on terra firma. But, in the meantime, I am so blessed to have Ryan in my life. I can't imagine facing life's challenges and joys without him.
My sweet, you are in my prayers every day. I thank the Lord for the awesome gift he has given me -- you.
1 comment:
I love you guys and pray that everything will turn out great. I'm sorry I can't be out there to keep you company during the surgery or to make Ryan wear a bed-pan smile.
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