I clearly remember the day my husband told me he had throat cancer. The news was so impossible to believe that I honestly wanted to reply, “No, Chad, you don’t, we don’t have time for cancer.” I tend to resist any emergency that I can’t package up and manage, or eliminate by a force of will.
As he stood in the kitchen, his hands resting on the sides of the sink, tears filled his eyes. I read in those tears that he had given up and accepted his medical condition, and that made me mad. We weren’t going to lay down and admit that the big scary C-word would take center stage in our lives. It wasn’t convenient–medical procedures would be scheduled when I had to work, or had other commitments to fulfill.
I couldn’t see past the treatments, the financial burden, or the fear a cancer diagnosis leaves in…
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