Worrying until I’m physically sick.
Imagining every possible scenario,
good and bad.
Terrified to think about the really bad ones, even more afraid the good ones won’t come to pass.
Agonizing over ways to make it better.
Holding him while he cries.
Begging God to fix it.
Begging God to let me take his place.
Begging God not to take him.
Crying until my eyes hurt.
He sleeps, I couldn’t possibly.
Wracking my brain.
Why us, why now, WHY?!
Replaying his doctors words in my head.
Did I ask enough questions?
Did I play the roll of the supportive wife?
Does his doctor think I’m doing my best?
Am I doing my best?
Surely I could more.
Are my friends and family tired of hearing about this?
They probably think I’m just begging for attention.
I wish they could know how I actually feel.
I wish I didn’t feel the need to protect them.
I wish I wasn’t mad at them for just simply living their lives.
I think about the other cancer wives.
They’re probably miserable like me.
I bet they’re doing better than me.
I should be glad I’m not a mom and a wife.
Another night as a cancer wife.