Since Chuck’s cancer diagnosis, we have both traveled though a world of emotions: fear, uncertainty, anger, doubt, fear, uncertainty. Early in the process, soon after he was diagnosed (lo these many months ago, back in Nov 2008), we were told by more than one person that it would be a journey – and a long and hard one at that. I think I didn’t take those warnings seriously enough. This past week it felt like the cumulative anxiety of four months came crashing down on me.

When Chuck went in for his chemo last week, and the doctor said that the initial signs of lymphoma were all gone but there was this new lesion…something in me just sort of snapped. It’s not like I hit the floor kicking and screaming. And it’s not like we even know what the lesion is. It was just an internal, deep down feeling of “come ON, how about some old-fashioned, plain vanilla good news?” It felt as if we were thrown right back into the pit of uncertainty we’ve been calling home since Nov with that one word – BUT. For the past three months as Chuck has endured chemo, we lulled ourselves (well, I certainly lulled myself) into a quiet sense of denial: this was just the new, temporary normal and then we’d get back to our lives.

Oddly enough  though, some good has come out of this yucky week. Chuck and I finally have had some serious talks about the what ifs that have been (at least in my case) slowly eating away at my insides. What if this doesn’t just wrap up on Mar 30 after his last chemo treatment with some follow-up tests over the nest few years. What if he needs a stem cell transplant? The conversation generated tears and laughter, fear and joy, and a renewed certainty that we’re okay – the two of us are solid and still fighting and a long way from giving up. But it felt SO good to talk, and talk about the scary things that keep us both awake at night sometimes. My darkest and most secret worry is what I would do with myself if he died. And it felt sooo good to admit that fear, take it out of its dark little box and share it. And Chuck did the same with his fears, and it turns out we’re pretty much scared of all the same things.

I don’t know what the future holds, neither of us do – actually, NONE of us do. None of us knows how long we have in this life. But what time Chuck and I do have, be it 40 years, 25 years, 50 years, or 10 years, will not be wasted.

We all spend way too much time worrying about things like mortgages and retirement and not enough time just being present with our loved ones, treasuring moments, hours, days. Chuck and I, regardless of the outcome of the next few weeks, are moving forward with an enhanced appreciation of the luck that led us to find each other, and a deep sense of joy for all that we have shared and will continue to share, for all the days of our lives yet to come.