Tonight I am sitting in a nice warm house, my hands curled around a mug of hot peppermint tea, listening to my hubby and puppy snore. I know our baby girl is enjoying time with her grandparents and cousins, and is safe and sound. The perfect Christmas tree that the three of us picked out together is lit and strung with beaded garland, ready for the ornaments. Tonight I am blessed.
A few days ago the Major and I were shopping, enjoying an afternoon together after the first of many cyber knife treatments on brain lesions. That day I had asked the radiation oncologist to be totally honest with me as to where she thought hubby was at as far as the disease went. Of course there is no clear cut answer, there is no absolute in dealing with cancer, or medicine for that fact. Every patient is different. I know that. I looked her straight in the eyes and asked her to go off the record. I knew how dangerous that was, but I had to know. I got the answer I kind of knew I was going to get. It just hit like a ton of bricks to have it said aloud. There is always hope, and I know we're in the best place to find something else that may work better if this treatment isn't doing what it should. We still have to wait and see how the treatment worked before they can say for sure what both of us are thinking. It eats away at you.
Back to shopping. The Major was looking at Pandora, picking out charms with me as we had done in South Carolina when I got my necklace. This time he was looking at a bracelet. All of a sudden I hear Avril Lavigne's When You're Gone. This song was on repeat on my iPod for my walks during deployments, and now I can't bear to hear it. The words, the sadness...during deployments I always knew he was coming back. Sure I was afraid for his safety and his life, but I knew he'd come back. Now this. This cancer. It's different. And those words hurt way too much. The Major had to walk away from the counter. Ever the military man he does not show emotion in public. Even with the steroids some how he is able to keep emotions in check when around strangers. I was left standing at the jewlery case with the very sweet sales girl, tears streaming down my face having to explain that my husband has terminal cancer and this may be the last bracelet he buys me. Set off panic attack number 1 of the day.
We were able to enjoy lunch, finish shopping and come home to nap. The Major was tired from therapy and I from anti anxiety medication and the stress of the day. One bonus to our daughter being on vacation with her grandparents is naps. I love sleep, and am so thankful for the chance to nap!!!
Panic attack number 2 came at a more usual time for me. Bed time. I look over at his face and the thoughts that race through my head are too much. Everything from "Why is this happening?" to "What are we going to do?", "It should be me, he's the better parent, the better person...", "I hate the Army for missing this", "Maybe God will perform a miracle and he'll be ok"...and my body fights my brain and the two scheme together to get me to the point where the person with the awful disease is consoling me. How dumb is that? Talk about needy and selfish. But he's the only one who was ever able to talk me out of a panic attack. And when I think about that, it sends more tears.
The next day I had pulled it together. Usually after having one bad day I can keep in control. I go back to being the secretary, the assistant, the protector, the medical aide, the translator, the mama bear...level headed, calm and just slightly scatter brained.
The Major decided we needed a date that night and took me to see the new Bond film. I love seeing his face when he's watching a movie he's been so excited to see. I am partial to Pierce Brosnan, but I suppose even Bond needs to change every once in a while. With that said, this was probably my favorite Daniel Craig Bond film.
As the credits were rolling and we sat together wondering what the next bond would be like with the changes they made in this movie, the tears welled up and the lump in my throat appeared. Would he be here for the next Bond film? Is this the last time I will watch a new Bond film with him?? I swallowed every emotion and got ahold of myself before the lights came on. I couldn't keep doing this to him.
Today, during his treatment, I was able to talk to some people who specialize in dealing with families and patients fighting cancer. Finally, people who said things that I think all of the time. People who made me realize I'm not so crazy. People who want to help our family enjoy our time instead of being bitter, angry and just plain miserable. It's going to take work for all of us. This is not something to get over. This is something to learn to live with.
Tonight, as we strung lights together around our beautiful tree, those thoughts started to fill my head. Is this our last Christmas tree? I watched him stand and admire the lights, the sparkles and shimmers, and take in the smell of a fresh tree...and at that moment I chose not to worry about next year. Not to worry about 5 years from now. I have him now. I have him this Christmas. I have him this New Year's. Even though his body is fighting this terrible war, one that has changed his body, his moods and what he can and can't do...he's still there. He's still the man who grabbed my arm when I tripped and said "Don't worry, I'll catch you if you fall". He's still the man who opens doors, pulls out my chair, knows every look, makes up silly words to my favorite songs to get on my nerves. He's still our daughter's Daddy, her hero and the love of her life. So every day I need to wake up and be thankful for another day. Not worry if we'll have a tomorrow.
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