Again, Again

Last night in class my heart began to pound. May 5. John’s colonoscopy is in eight days. What if? If the news is bad what will we do? Surgery again? Chemo again? Hospital rooms again and again?

Last year it was all new. We didn’t know what was coming so even though it was hard we just kept moving expecting each next step to make things better. I didn’t know what was coming. I knew about hospital rooms and ICU and sleeping in chairs from taking care of my family all those years when they were dying. But cancer was new and chemo was new, and we kept at it. I didn’t know how hard it could get.

But now I do. Hospital again? Chemo again? And the scariest thought: If his cancer has come back it means more than surgery and treatment. It means we won’t get the time together we dreamed of. It means he will die.

I tell myself that even if that is the outcome, even if that is his and our fate, that I will be OK. I have supports and resources and people that I did not have years ago. But today I do not want resources and supports and people. I want him in my life. I want more time to love him.