Two Stories

It is said that there are only two stories: A man goes on a journey and A stranger comes to town. When I talk to people who want to write about their caregiving experiences I ask them, “Which one is your story?” There is no right answer, of course. Cancer is a journey that men and women can go on-patient or caregiver. And certainly Cancer is a stranger that comes to town.

Thinking about John and I today and the way that we see this story, how we construct this narrative. Then I think about the way this story affects those around us. There are many stories in this story. Many journeys and many strangers.

In my story John is a stranger who came into my life five years ago. I never expected then what would happen. I was a stranger in his life too. He called one day to ask me to be a guest teacher at his school. We had never met. Then another stranger came to town: romance, infatuation, seduction, sexual desire. The erotic stranger and the romantic journey. We went on that journey. Then another stranger, cancer came into our lives. First it came into his body, then into our lives. After that many strangers arrived in fast succession: gastroenterologist, surgeon, oncologist. I could even tell you how fear arrived as a stranger in this story but for me fear is not a stranger, rather a familiar through troublesome companion.

In John’s life I was a stranger. He knew my work but not me. We met for coffee as two strangers and five years later we have a joint checking account, friends in common and a really nice coffee maker. We have been on one big, messy journey with many small side trips. John certainly is on a journey with colon cancer. Life, death, sickness and health are all rising like monuments around us. He is on an emotional journey too; ending a long marriage that included wonderful things: two great sons, a good wife, sweet memories, love and a vision they al had together for a future that is irreconcilably changed.

John’s wife certainly had the experience of a stranger coming to town: this other woman showed up and--in certain ways of constructing a story “took” her husband away. (That I could take a man from a life that he wanted does make him unenviably weak and pliable. But still it must feel that way.) Even worse must be the realization that the man she loved and knew became a stranger. And the journey, yes. It is a journey to remake your life when a relationship ends. Some people go to the end of the porch and stand with arms crossed and say, “I won’t go.” Others say “OK, I’ll go if I have to.” Others still may be able to say “Bring it, baby.” I have been on that porch and I have had to go on journeys I didn’t choose. I know all of those responses.

My husband too. I became a stranger to him, and John is a stranger who came into our “town” with terrible consequences. In his grief my husband has gone on a journey with fierceness and a strong sense of honor. Will we become strangers to each other? Or will we now go on a journey together crafting some kind of post-married relationship?