“How can I do that?”

Everything shifted today. His PSA is rising slightly but significantly enough to warrant an added medication. The progression continues – what he calls “a ticking time bomb inside me with no way to get it out.” Denial of the inevitable breaks into consciousness and plummets me into a visceral depression of mind and body. How can I hide my sadness? I carefully scanned the faces of his medical team looking for any signs of knowing compassion that might confirm or dis-confirm my greatest fear. I hold onto optimism and determination to fight his illness with everything in me. We sat next to each other on the couch in our living room, plates on our laps eating lunch, swirling in silence. We acknowledged that we may need to talk to someone.

We are so in love and doing what we want with our lives but time has betrayed us. He wants a birthday party; he doesn’t want chemotherapy; he wants to speak with his daughters. He renewed his driver’s license today and doesn’t expect to be around to renew it again. I can’t bear this day. Next week are scans and more news and more reality and this isn’t fair. I shouldn’t publish while I am feeling so bad (but writing helps). He’s still strong without symptoms. We laugh and dance and hold each other through the night. I look forward to being together for many years to come. He has to believe in that potential just as I do.

One of his doctors said the goal was to keep him symptom free and to have him live life and not think about the cancer between three month checkups.’ Richard chuckled, “how can I do that?” My life  is lived in three month increments – waiting for his next PSA reading and not a second taken for granted. Life lived as fully as possible now and forever.

~ Suzanne