The Cocooning of Cancer
Some simple thoughts. It's a gray November day, during a wet, gray week. Yet in the grayness, every dark tree trunk, every golden leaf, every red crab apple, every peeling white birch bark declares its beauty. So it is when living with cancer in the family. It can be very easy for the grayness to overwhelm and depress. It is within the darkest of fogs that joy can suddenly leap out and shine like gold.
I think that the one thing that leaps out for me the most is how profoundly I love Jim and how fortunate I've been to be his wife. Although my nights can be unsettled and interrupted often, they are also sometimes my favorite time because I can just hold on and think, you are here now with me.
Another calming thought that has recently took hold of me is that we have made it 10 months! Last January, I had little hope that we would be here today. And in those ten months I have witnessed the resiliency of how he embraces his life.
For myself, I find I am uncertain of my path. Afraid to commit to anything that might be too far into the future or take too much of a time commitment, or time away from home. It is so much the opposite of how I've lived my life that it can be unsettlingly and surprisingly lonely. Yet in this even, I am finding what fills me up and brings me happiness in a quieter life. I feel like I am in a cocoon and I am not sure yet if I will remain there, or turn into a Monarch or Swallowtail or a less spectacular moth. Only Spring will hold the answer.
I think that the one thing that leaps out for me the most is how profoundly I love Jim and how fortunate I've been to be his wife. Although my nights can be unsettled and interrupted often, they are also sometimes my favorite time because I can just hold on and think, you are here now with me.
Another calming thought that has recently took hold of me is that we have made it 10 months! Last January, I had little hope that we would be here today. And in those ten months I have witnessed the resiliency of how he embraces his life.
For myself, I find I am uncertain of my path. Afraid to commit to anything that might be too far into the future or take too much of a time commitment, or time away from home. It is so much the opposite of how I've lived my life that it can be unsettlingly and surprisingly lonely. Yet in this even, I am finding what fills me up and brings me happiness in a quieter life. I feel like I am in a cocoon and I am not sure yet if I will remain there, or turn into a Monarch or Swallowtail or a less spectacular moth. Only Spring will hold the answer.
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