Karen was diagnosed with cancer five years ago, in March 2008. She had surgery, then radiation and chemotherapy. There followed many visits to doctors, first every three months, then every six months. Finally, three weeks ago, Karen’s doctor said that, barring some sudden change in health, she now has to return just once a year. Our relief has been palpable.
I was slow to react to the news that there was a tumor growing in Karen’s body. My behavior in those first weeks was sometimes selfish and hurtful. We knew we would have to be in Tucson for a much longer time than we had planned, and I manically insisted that we look at a house on the same day we learned that Karen would have to have surgery. One morning, we talked in the parking lot by a grocery store, and she expressed her anger with me. When I saw that what I was doing and saying made her cry, I felt awful, but sometimes guilt makes me strike back, and I did this, making myself even uglier in her and my own eyes.
I did do helpful things, taking notes when nurses called, answering the phone when Karen didn’t want to talk, taking care of certain household chores, signing an agreement when we found a house to rent, and trying to be as supportive as I could. We had one son living with us then, and another came as soon as we told him the bad news. Their presence helped me focus better on what needed to be done. I wanted to set a good example for them.