While I have admitted that I am enjoying writing my blog, there is a scary aspect to blogging. I’ve been very curious about the strangers who have been reading my blog. One of the searches that seems to lead people to my blog is “Lung Cancer.” People are reading what I’ve written about Chris and his battle with Lung Cancer and they’ve been reading my post about the statistics regarding Lung Cancer.
Blogging is a social activity, kind of. You write your blog and put your feelings, thoughts and ideas out there and other people read it. But my curiosity has resulted in my reading blogs that I might not have found otherwise. One blogger who found me is a lady whose husband has Lung Cancer. His cancer, well, he is in pretty bad shape. He’s in the hospital right now after running a very high fever from an infection. His kidneys are failing and he is starting dialysis.
And I feel for her. Probably too much. And I fear for Chris. I cannot help thinking that this is what it will look like for him when the cancer outsmarts the clinical trial drug. My eyes tear up and it is difficult to breathe.
I’ve spent my entire adult life with Chris. I met him a few weeks after graduating from college and here it is 20 years later. We celebrated our 18th Wedding Anniversary in July. When Chris lived in Colorado and the boys and I were still in Illinois, we talked every day. We emailed and instant messaged. I cannot imagine not talking with Chris about the boys on a daily basis. I cannot imagine him not being here.
I fear for our boys, for what the last two years has done to them and what Chris’ cancer continues to do to them. I think we all collectively hold our breath when Chris is coughing or taking his temperature. It is not a good place for anyone to be and it is a part of life I wish I could just eliminate. It has taken our boys’ childhood away. It is horribly unfair, they deserve to have had a carefree childhood or at least on that has not been filled with fear about their dad.
Yet, there is nothing that anyone can do to change things. It sucks. Cancer Sucks! It has taken so much from us and it is not finished taking. Greedy, selfish and uncaring – this disease does not discriminate. It steals.
Chris does not talk with me about the cancer and what will happen. He does not share his thoughts, feelings and fears. It is almost if he feels that if he shares them, they become more real. It is his decision and I am here for him if he wants to talk. People deal with adversity differently and I respect that it is his choice how he deals. And just because I don’t like the way he isn’t talking, I cannot force him to deal in the way I feel is best. Furthermore, I have not been in his shoes and I cannot imagine how he feels. I don’t think anyone can unless they are facing the same things.
As a result, for the last 2 years, I’ve been trying to hold everything together. But it is like having a handful of sand, no matter how carefully it is held, little grains slip through. And these are the moments that panic sets in. How am I going to help the boys? How are they going to feel? What am I going to do? Why us? How the hell do I do this all by myself? How do I continue raising our boys without their dad? I never, ever imagined that I’d be asking these questions at the age of 40. I am certain that Chris didn’t think that he would be dealing with incurable cancer at the age of 42.
I know that I will continue to cope with Chris’ cancer. I don’t have a choice. I cannot stay in bed hiding (no matter how much I might want to) because the boys are depending on me. While it is untrue, I believe that if I am ok then the boys will be ok too. But I know that they won’t be ok. Neither will I. I think that it will be worse for me because I imagine that I will not only feel my own pain, I will feel the boys’ pain. And it is thoughts of their pain that cause me to fear.
And there are moments, like reading Maxi Malone’s blog this morning that take my composure away and allow panic to set in.