I
can’t write anymore. Trying to . . . is like putting an empty pot into the
oven, nothing to cook . . . empty, stuck and fearful to know what the filled
pot would look like. I am resisting,
walking up to the altar and quickly turning away, as if I never came down the
aisle. Even now, as I write, my heart is
beginning to race. I’m standing on the
threshold, a deep crevice in my body’s earth.
Holding onto a wild horse’s mane, running wild, never stopping, no destination
in sight . . . except death. Almost two years since your diagnosis, and you seemed fine, normal, no pain . . .
nothing different except not eating very much, not very hungry, but nothing
severe . . . some weight loss, but you could afford it back then.
When
we heard the words slip through the Doctor’s teeth . . . “Fourth Stage Liver
Cancer! Do you have an Oncologist? Need
to see one immediately!” Stunned is a
gentle description of the double whammy that punched a hole in our stomachs and
made our heads start pounding as if we’d been in a crash. “What? What are you saying? What do we do?
Who do we see? What’s going to happen to my husband, the love of my life? Do we put on some armor, polish the swords,
get ready to fight? Fight the hardest fight of our lives! Will the treatments change him . . make him sick, weak, lost and close to death . . . this Man of
mine, who seemed happy and fine, so full of life and affection . . . my Lover,
my dearest Friend?"
What horrible road have we taken you on . . . this Golgotha? And no matter how hard I’m trying . .
. to keep you alive . . . I feel so insignificant in the face of your great
suffering now. This cross is hard, so
hard to help you carry up that hill.
You’ve
conquered many demons in your life, overcome difficult illnesses and
heartaches. . . but this one is testing you, testing me, to the point of no
return at times. Stay strong, my
Love. Keep fighting the fight, and know
I’m here beside you always.
What
if another Miracle is just waiting to happen, like all the others? What if we walked together to top of that
fearful hill and found the Cross had disappeared? Then we could roll down in the green grass
instead . . . and make love once again.
