Don't Get Me Wrong

Now don't get me wrong. I love my wife. I love her so much. I will care for her and stroke the hair that is falling out and hold her hand. I will love her and care for her always. We all think we do not like our spouses for some reason or other from time to time. We look for tiny faults that will disqualify them. I've done it and I believe everyone has.

It does not matter now. I am so in love with her that I would (and have asked God to) have the pain transfer to my body if it would save her from a moment of pain, suffering, sickness and doubt.

All I want is for her to get well. I want to wake up tomorrow really hung over and find her saying "Man those were some bad dreams you were having last night."

I can't stand the pain she is in and it is only week three.

Week four is the end of the first cycle, 28 days. Then we begin again with drip infusion, nausea, tamoxifen on days 9, 14, 19, 24, 28. Each day is separated by periods of nausea and pain. Her waking hours are divided by naps and pain and nausea. My moments are punctuated by fear and worry with a small amount of gut wrenching terror thrown in to spice it up. I know that at some point we will have the waxing and waning of her care and hospital visits hit an imbalance with school and work scheduling and the kids will be abandoned with no support mechanism to provide for them. I know it will happen and I worry. Did I leave the toaster or coffee pot on? Oh well I can't worry about everything.