I want you to imagine life on death row. You’re told you’re going to die and you basically wait for your name to be called.
This is how I imagine Joe feels every day since his diagnosis.
We waited nervously in the doctor’s office today to find out if Joe’s names is on that list.
Over the last two weeks, I’ve walked into our room and put my hand on his chest to make sure he’s breathing. His shallow breaths and sunken eyes have made me fear the worst.
He’s out of breath to get to the kitchen. None of his clothes fit. His arms tingle as they fall asleep even when in use.
The man is a warrior.
The doctor’s told us today the cancer is stable. This is far from what we expected. I had prepared myself for the very worst even letting my mind wander to the most morbid of places. But today, I was wrong.
The cancer is there and will always be there, according to the doctors. But at this very moment, this was very good news. The cancer has not spread. The cancer is stable.
Our doctor told us it’s the chemotherapy that has been causing so much pain. The treatment is making the scar tissue from the surgery swell. It’s then pushing up against nerves causing his back and side to surge with a sudden and lingering sharpness.
The doctor thinks that’s going to stop and he wants us to take one month off of chemotherapy. One whole month. 35 beautiful days of building Joe’s body back up. Get the weight back on. Maybe we can take walks? Maybe we can eat breakfast? Maybe we can get Mira to the park? So much possibility in one whole month of living.
I live with a warrior. I know he’s doing this for us. I know if it was just Joe he’d probably say it isn’t worth it. But he’s doing it for us.
I live with a warrior.