I’ve had several people ask me why I stopped contributing to the blog. They say Liz isn’t taking this journey on her own. That some people NEED to hear about how it affects the family. To be honest, I’ve started about 20 blog posts over the past several months and I haven’t been able to finish them. I read what’s been written and I feel like a whiny “woe is me” baby. But the right people have pushed the right buttons so I’m going to post this one…because cancer doesn’t just affect the person who gets sick – it radiates out from that person to everyone around them.

Make no mistake…this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Most of the people reading the blog know Liz from before she was diagnosed – hard working, tough as nails, strong, resilient, protective, loving, laughing, etc etc etc. The first thing I learned after she got diagnosed is just how much she is loved by so many people. I know how awesome she is, obviously! It seems I took for granted just how many other people felt the same way. 

I know it comes as no surprise to anyone reading this that I haven’t always been a role model husband…in fact the majority of the strife in our family dynamics have been caused by me being a jackass. But with time and hard work our family has been able to pull out of that strife. That was something I can control; you know, don’t be a jackass long enough and Liz will start to believe you are not actually a jackass.

And then this comes along. Cancer. My grandma Hilda died from it when I was 13; my grandma Jackie got it and beat it many years ago…it seemed like something that happened to people a lot older than us. 

If Karma was real I’d have been the one who got sick. But no, it had to be Liz. The person who didn’t deserve it. And after all the hard times in marriage we’ve had here comes something that can’t be corrected by me deciding to discontinue the jackass routine. I have no answers. I can’t fix anything. I’m helpless. And it is the WORST. 

I’ve said the chivalrous things more than once – I’d gladly wake up tomorrow with the cancer in my body instead of Liz, and when I say it I mean it. But nobody on this earth thinks I would handle it with the level of strength and dignity that Liz has kept over the last 10 months. Not even me.

If you ever find yourself married to someone going through a cancer journey, prepare your mind. That’s where your fight will take place. Be a source of light. You can’t take their physical pain away, but you can make them forget about it briefly with a good laugh. Let people help you however they want to…how they show love is up to them and you should let them do it.

I can’t actually remove the cancer from Liz’s body, but I can make her forget it’s there for a few random brief moments each day. And the hope that these brief moments will be regular and normal when she finally beats this disease are what carry me through.

I appreciate all of you very much. It’s so hard to articulate that, but when the time comes I will put it into words. My God when this is all over I’m going to be writing thank you notes for 6 weeks straight.

Chris