WIWP's first guest post: The DH

Hello, everybody. Erin - the "darling husband" (or DH) - here. A short while back, my DW (darling wife, of course) suggested I author a guest post on this blog, explaining what it was like to be the significant other of someone going through cancer and chemotherapy. So here I am to fulfill that wish.

It’s a fairly easy explanation, actually. We’ve all been through something like it. Maybe not with cancer, but we’ve all been there: Someone we love is suffering, and we wish we could shoulder the burden ourselves. It’s easier to be the one dealing with adversity than it is to watch someone you love go through it, especially when there is precious little you can do to help.

That is easily the worst part of watching someone you love go through what Katie went through: the overwhelming sense of helplessness. When she is lying in bed sobbing, wondering whether she will make it to her next birthday or see Tatum grow up, I can tell her with a reassuring voice that everything is going to be OK. And I did that. But we’re both adults, and she’s a smart woman. We both know that is a fate which is ultimately out of my control. I can’t guarantee anything like that. So while I know I said the right thing, it nonetheless felt like an empty promise. And it felt like she knew that. Also, without getting too deep into the gory details, when Katie was … let’s say dealing with the physical effects of chemotherapy, there was nothing I could do to make things even marginally better. It was the worst after the first few sessions – not only because her reactions to the first two rounds were easily the harshest of the bunch, but because she knew she had to do this five, four, etc. more times. “I don’t want to do this five more times,” I can remember her pleading. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

I would never compare what I had to deal with to what Katie went through, physically or emotionally. But I certainly faced my own challenges. Perhaps foremost was balancing a terrible tightrope of staying strong and calm for Katie vs. dealing with my own feelings and emotions. I remained stoic throughout those seven or so months, but naturally I was dealing with a lot internally. Those concerns Katie had about the future: of course I had the same. Was I going to lose the love of my life before she reached 30? Was I going to become a single parent? Was Tatum going to grow up without her mother? All those questions haunted me. Yet naturally I could not share that with Katie. She was dealing with enough; the hell if my whining was going to cause her to spend even one ounce of concern for my well-being. Somehow – and to be perfectly honest, I couldn’t tell you exactly how – I managed to deal with those feelings without letting Katie see or without holding in too long until I had a complete breakdown. Honestly, I wish I knew how I did it because it would be great advice for anyone going through the same thing. Maybe just my awareness of the balancing act – knowing I was sitting on a grumbling volcano – was enough to get me through.

Unfortunately, with cancer, the worries never completely subside. For the last two or three years (Wow, has it been that long?) everything has been great and Katie has been healthy. But cancer, of course, is a different beast. It’s never completely gone. Not long after Katie was done with chemotherapy I wrote a story for the paper on a young man whose role model was his aunt. This woman got breast cancer very young, went through treatments and came out healthy. Sound like anyone you know? Wonderful story so far, right? A few years later the cancer came back and this time took the woman’s life. She was 38. That was perhaps the toughest story – out of thousands – that I’ve had to write in my career.

I hope Katie never has to go through all of that again. While I’m making wishes, I hope that some day soon we find a cure for cancer and no one has to ever go through anything like that again. Going through it a second time would not be any easier just because we would know what to expect. If anything, I think it would be worse for that very reason: We would know exactly what’s coming, and with cancer, what’s coming ain’t pretty.

If it does happen, we will deal with it the best we can, and hope and pray for the best. That’s about all I did last time. That’s about all I felt I could do.

And that sucked.

Until then, we will enjoy every day of being happy and healthy.