It has been 2 days
since we learned that you have Multiple Myeloma, a deadly, incurable,
aggressive blood cancer that is going to eventually take you from us.
2 days.
The processing of
such information is far different than I had thought. I’ve had friends that
have gone through this before and I often wondered what they felt and how they
dealt with it, not ever expecting to find out… certainly without any hope that
I would.
2 days.
I was stoic at first.
I heard the diagnosis. I felt it on the surface of my skin. Like the tiny
sticky feet of a fly barely registering on your naked foot until it creates a
tiny tickle that you simply flick away. A brush off with little thought.
2 days.
8 hours in it began
to penetrate the surface, slowly sinking further in, infecting my feelings and
emotions. Google was my worst enemy and best friend at the same time. The more
I researched the harder my heart beat and the more I had to find out. It sunk
further in and my first break happened. While discussing how to handle the
medication and side effects with my husband, I uttered the words “you’re going
to have to help me because this is going to be hard…” and I couldn’t finish. I
choked on my lost words and the first of many tears began. Still a surface
infection I was able to cut it off and regain my composer. That was the first
day.
2 days.
The second day
started like all others. My first thought wasn’t that you had cancer or that a
clock had begun silently ticking. I wasn’t consumed with dread and fear or
worry and sadness… In fact all I really wanted was to go back to bed. We got
together like always at 3 and it became very real again. We discussed things
nobody ever wants to discuss. Side effects and pain, limitations and worries…
we both had our brave faces on, smiling and making small jokes like it wasn’t a
big deal… but the heaviness on our hearts simmering below the surface was
telling a different story. We made plans for doctor appointments and I assured
you that there was nothing to worry about, I’d take care of the paper work and
memorize everything so you wouldn’t have to.
2 days.
I could feel it
seeping in further by that night. The first real trickles of fear started to
drip like melting icicles down the back of my neck. I could hear the first
distant ticks of the clock that had begun counting down. You are dying. We are
all dying but not all of us have been given a window in which to expect it. We
don’t all know that there is a specific cause inside our bodies, breaking it
down like a parasitic monster eating everything good until nothing is left. We
don’t have to take medicine that will damage our insides and destroy the good
and bad just to wind our clock a little further. I once thought that knowing
when someone was going to die had to be easier than the unexpected thief in the
night deaths.
I was wrong.
2 days.
Everything has now
become a countdown. Time is a fickle wench and I hate her. I hate the hyper
awareness. I hate the tick tock sound emitting from my clock. I hate the
numbers flashing at me announcing that yet another second has passed. I hate
when the sun sets but hate it more when it rises again because now we’re 2 days
in on a death sentence and no amount of time could ever be enough.
I can feel it now.
Day 2 broke through the layers of bravado and what was surface pain is starting
to sneak through to my core. I feel it scratching at my heart… indescribable
pain and grief reaching its painful fingers through my ribcage, stretching out
towards my heart trying to get its never-ending grip wrapped completely around
it until I’m suffocating completely by that pain I often wondered about but
never wanted to experience.
Tomorrow is a new
day. Tomorrow I will feel new things. Tomorrow won’t be better though, because
right now that only means it’s one day closer to a day I can’t prepare for. I
want to tell you all of these things because you’re my rock, the one I go to
with some of my hardest emotional issues because you are always rational and
calming. You give me the hope I need to get through the hard times. You can’t
be breaking because you’re Clark Kent, a super-hero like no other, and the
thought of you failing breaks me in ways I didn’t think possible.
Today I’m sorry. I’m
sorry you’re sick. I’m sorry I can’t fix you. I’m sorry for every single wasted
second in our lives. I’m sorry that there’s an end. I’m sorry that eventually
my brave face will fade and I will simply cry because I can’t and won’t ever
pretend that losing you is going to be easy. The mere thought of it causes my
heart to seize up and my throat to close. I’m sorry in advance that my broken
heart will be visibly worn on my sleeve. It will be like that because of how
much I love you and for that… I’m not sorry.
2 days down. Not
enough to go.
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