The man behind the woman: Caregivers (part three)

I met Rich almost two and half years ago, and I swear from the first day we met he has made me laugh every single day.  Most people say they knew the instant they saw the person (I pretty much did), but this was something different -- I finally learned two and half years ago not only how to fall in love again, but what it was like to feel soul-shaking laughter.  How to choose to cherish moments and not be so fixated, serious, neurotic, type A about so many things.  I like to think he had something huge to do with that, I tend to think he had everything to do with it (and on top of it, still make my knees weak).

A lot of people credit the warrior, but in fact it is these caregivers that give us strength to move forward.    To carry on.  To keep going.  Rich, my other half, my partner, the man who makes my soul stir with laughter is one of the very big reasons I am still here, still smiling, and having the quality of life I have today.  He came in knowing, knowing that when he walked into my story there was cancer.  I'm not sure how many men could have that strength -- or be that crazy ;)

It's so hard to describe in words what this man has done for me over the last few years, but there has been a definite shift in my well-being, my soul, my heart, and how I view the world through the lenses that I so love to see through these days.  I wake up knowing I get to have adventures, explore, and play.  I never used to know what those things were... I never used to be able to see the humor or joke in this disease, this lifestyle, or how to have fun while fighting this illness.  This man has not only modeled it for me, without having any experience, but has guided me hand in hand through one of the most difficult years of my life (hopefully THE most difficult year of my life).

From last June to this June, when Rich and I look over the calendar, we have had only three weeks (not counting this last month of normalcy) in which I was not hooked up to an IV bag, in a doctors office, hospitalized, or bedridden for part of a week.  It has been a brutal year, and yet, our love grows like roots of a tree into the ground of this life and continues to deepen, strengthen, and become more solid.

When people speak of their relationships and moments they fall in love, it is usually of romantic getaways, champagne and dinner, fancy attire, or time alone somewhere remote.  I have some moments such as these pieces of normalcy, but the ones that I truly cherish are ones of advocacy, support, companionship, and intimacy on levels I never knew existed in a hospital room (and get your minds out of the gutter people!) ;) The times I am most proud of our relationship and our bond is when I see him hovering over me in an ER telling the nurse that it's "too many sticks, you'll have to figure something out." Or the first time we went away to a Texas treatment, and we had more fun on that trip than most vacations I had ever been on, due to company, due to food, due to all of him. Or the times he knows when to give me space after I've had too long of a day with clinic, doctors, nurses, physical therapy, and life.  And knows exactly when to step in when I'm about to have some anxiety, tears, and my fear of the unknown gets the best of me.

These are the times, sadly and wonderfully, I fall, deeply, madly, more in love with one of my greatest caregivers.  These are the times when the man behind the woman helps the woman to continue to move, to live, love, laugh, breathe, and suck the marrow out of life more than I ever have.  This year has been brutal, but telling. Difficult but affirming.  Frighting but loving.  In so many ways the juxtaposition is so beautiful and yet, so heartbreaking.  To find someone, to have a caregiver such as Rich, my partner, my love, and face this illness and now onto one of the most risky treatment procedures I could endure does not seem fair.  But what is these days?

What I know? What I know is that I am still incredibly lucky.  That on my darkest days, I still laugh through most of my tears and pain.  That I've taken trips and vacations for treatment and pleasure that I never would've experienced such highs because of a man who loves to walk five miles in flippers on hot lava rock, and would follow 50 different butterflies just to see where they would land.  I experience the essence of life everyday, and have for the last two and a half years because I have someone who has chosen to let me into his world, just as I have chosen to let him into mine (something he reminds me of everyday, that he feels grateful, he feels lucky, he feels this.)

But above all, what I feel is that I am part of a unit. a team. a pair. a bond. that not only enhances my life, but enhances the chances of so much beauty with life in general and in this painful scenario that we call cancer.  I may be the strong woman to many, but to me, there are many, many times that he is strength, however close or far behind me.

And oh, I am grateful for so much more that I could write novels upon novels.
But that is something that we, everyday, get to experience, share and keep for our own.  For now, I share this with all of you to show you that again, in so many ways I am grateful.
Today, and all days, I am grateful for my caregivers, and I am so grateful for him.


Sending Light and gratefulness,
B.