Shortly after we were engaged, Aaron and I went to dinner with some friends. We got to talking about my family, so I pulled this picture of my dad and brothers from my wallet. Lars looked at the picture a moment, then set it down on the table while backing away a bit.
He turned to my husband and said, “Dude, whatever you do, don’t piss her off.”
So far, so good.
I’ve been procrastinating on writing a blog post for a very long time now. It’s Christmas. It’s the end of the year. It’s the beginning of the new year. So much pressure to write a deep, meaningful, soul searching, profound piece that sums up the meaning of life, and what I’ve learned this year. Or at least pull together a humorous and/or touching year in review post.
This year I learned I have cancer. I endured two surgeries, 6 months of chemo, and I’m currently on radiation. I survived. My family survived. I haven’t completely messed up my daughter. yet.
This year was too deep, and too long, for me to sum up in one pretty, little post. Maybe one of these days, when I’ve put some distance between me and what I endured, I’ll be able to write something meaningful about this year, and my experience. For now, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to plumb the depths of my soul. I don’t want to share what’s in my heart. I haven’t processed it yet. That will take some time.
Besides all that, I’ve been sick. I don’t mean cancer sick; I mean coughing, sneezing, mucus like rubber cement, don’t you dare turn on the lights, throbbing sinuses, and it feels like a mile-long hike just getting to the bathroom sick. I’m feeling much better, and starting to dig my way out of the haze now, but this has been lingering since before Christmas. To all of you waiting on a return email, or phone call, I’m sorry. I’ll get back to you soon. If you’re waiting on a Christmas card… ha ha ha. giggle. snort. Yeah, right, it’s been years since I was organized enough to send those out – even when I was healthy.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy. I’m afraid the first few paragraphs of this post may have led you to believe I’m bitter and pouting about this year. Not so much. I just don’t understand how I feel about it all yet. I need more time to sort it out.
Early last month, I started the Reverb10 project with such enthusiasm, but found myself avoiding my computer for the month of December, because I knew each new reverb prompt would lead to more thinking. Shudder. I still plan on continuing the Reverb10 project, but on my own timeline. It may take me the remainder of 2011 to finish, and I may not make public all my responses, but I think it’s a wonderful way of reviewing where I’ve been, and making plans for the future.
You still want to know about the day my husband threw up and saved our relationship? Gross. Ok, just kidding, that would have piqued my interest as well. Earlier today, my husband reminded me of this moment in the history of our relationship. That memory is what brought me back to my computer to write, and thus, the reason the title of this post is dedicated to that moment.
Long before we got married, and about 6 months after we met, I decided that falling in love with Aaron would be terribly inconvenient. I wasn’t ready to be in love (this after years of “looking for love in all the wrong places”). I went around the house and gathered up the items of his that had accumulated (CDs, a hat, a shirt… ) and placed them next to the door, ready to send them and him on their way when he arrived at my place after work.
When he showed up, he brushed past me, rushed to the bathroom, and spent what felt like forever in there puking. Monstrous, earth shattering, roaring, I’ve never heard anyone puke like that. By the time he was done, cleaned up, and passed out in my bed, I had given up on thoughts of breaking off the relationship. I grabbed his possessions by the door and redistributed them back around the house. It was too late. I was already in love.
Instead of fighting what is, I needed to accept it (good or bad), and then decide how I was going to respond to it.
I got a little deep there, didn’t I?
oops.
You can learn more about my cancer story here:
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A marriage takes a lot of work; so does keeping a day job (or going to school), maintaining a home, and raising children. When you have cancer, there are times when the fight for your life takes more work than all of the above combined.
Since my diagnosis, I have been reaching out to women with cancer, both in the real world and online. One of the things that has surprised me the most is the number of relationships that have dissolved post diagnosis. It’s not one or two, it’s a lot.
Cancer adds a lot of stress to a marriage.
Every story is different. In some cases it was the person with cancer who left; in others, it was the co-survivor (what we call the spouse or partner of the person with cancer). They are all wildly different stories, and come from people leading different lives: from all different parts of the world, rich, poor, educated, uneducated, religious, non-religious. It’s tempting to be judgmental, but only the people in that relationship truly know their story. Let’s not pass judgment.
I’ve only been married for 6 years. I’ve only been married once. I’m not a marriage counselor. I don’t profess to have any special knowledge that would help others prevent or reverse marriage trouble, but I’ve witnessed a few things, experienced a few things, and had a few thoughts.
National statistics tell us that roughly half of all marriages in this country end in divorce. Those statistics are silent on the issue of cancer. Every relationship has its issues, and cancer doesn’t make those issues go away. In fact, there are times when cancer amplifies them. Cancer has a way of amplifying everything.
The one thing that has helped me maintain my sanity and perspective throughout this cancer ordeal is membership in a support group. I belong to the Young Survival Coalition which provides support for young women with breast cancer.
Our discussions in group are confidential, but I can tell you that at times they deal with issues in our relationships. A phrase came out at one of the meetings, and we’ve all been loving it and using it since: “You don’t go to the hardware store to get bread.” That one little phrase has been of immense help to me.
I love my husband. He is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. But I don’t expect him to be my everything. I have other people in my life: my daughter, my family, my friends, my support group. They all fill different roles, and provide support in different ways. And when I don’t expect my husband to fill the role of one of my girl friends, we get along much better. One of my friends in the support group told me: “We’ll be your bakery.”
When I unload in the group about cancer (where it is expected and appropriate) instead of unloading on my husband, we get along much better. That’s not to say I don’t tell my husband everything. He pretty much hears it all, but it’s not all at once. It’s not a deluge of problems and issues that I dump in his lap the moment he walks in the door. It’s not a bitch and whine session. It’s not constant complaining. I’ve already gotten that out of my system – dumped on the support group that completely understands what I’m going through. I already got my bread, so when I tell my husband what’s going through my head, or through my body, I can say things without that whiny tone in my voice or unrealistic expectations.
Does this have anything at all to do with the relationships that broke up? Maybe. Maybe not. I have no idea. Every relationship is different. Every person is different. This is just what helped me. Having a support group helps me be a better partner in our relationship. Believe it or not, I think practicing jiu-jitsu helps my husband be a better partner in our relationship. I’m sure other people have completely different activities that help them approach their relationship with more patience, compassion, and understanding.
I wish love, patience, compassion, and understanding could make a marriage bulletproof.
A cancer diagnosis teaches you not to take things for granted: your life, your health, your breasts, your hair. I’m adding relationships to that list.
For a more encouraging look at marriage and cancer, read my post The Promise.
I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot lately. December 30th would have been my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary – if he had lived that long. I remember how much my neices and nephews enjoyed their grandpa – and he them – story time, living room forts, tickle monsters… I know there is little sense in dwelling on what is not possible, but sometimes I imagine what would have been – my daughter with her grandfather.
A friend of mine was going through her photos recently and found a couple I had not seen before. These pictures were taken four years ago at a dear friends wedding, and they landed in my inbox right when I needed to see them (Thanks Sharon).
The first photo: my two favorite men, my husband and my father. This may be the only picture we have of just the two of them.
The second photo: my husband and I with my parents.
So what little blessings have taken your breath away recently?
Hopefully he’ll forgive me.
Every time my husband shaves off his beard, he first shaves his facial hair into interesting and amusing shapes. What he keeps forgetting is that there is a down-side to being married to a blogger. There is a really good chance I’m going to ambush him with a camera and post the results online.
For the record, Baby thought Daddy looked pretty funny too.
