We Made It

Dear Brian,

Tomorrow is the day.  You are finished with your chemo!  I can't imagine the relief you must feel.  You can move on; we can move on. 

Your hair can really start to come back in.  The peach fuzz you have now is cute.  You've been so patient with the side effects you have encountered.  I know how much you want that port out.  Hopefully it won't be long now. 

You've been so brave, making it look so easy when it couldn't have been.  You refused to slow down when you had every right to.  You had the support and the time, but it's just not your style.  Working and being as normal as possible was the best was to survive.

And survive you have.  Survive we have.  Seems a strange way to be closer to you than ever, but I think you would agree that we are. 

I hope I've been help enough. I worry about that.  I've written about it before but we've never really discussed it before.  I've worried that just fetching your lunch on chemo days doesn't feel like much.  I know that isn't really ALL I do for you and have done for you through this, but I just want you to feel like you have all the love and support you could possibly need.

Without feeling smothered of course.  No charity cases here.  But the dinners from our friends at school were pretty nice, weren't they?  I know that they always seemed to be on the perfect nights; I was just too tired to even think about what I might fix and a sandwich or cereal would be fine.  But you needed to eat better than that, and the angels made sure we did.

I can't wait to get on with our lives now.  This house is pretty big.  Let's see about adding a little Horned Frog or two.  We aren't spring chickens, either one of us. 

I know it's odd, but I can't help but wonder if I would be as involved in the running at Luke's and trying new things if this had not happened to us.  I'm grateful for the opportunity though if I had to do it all over again....well, you know...

So much mortality this year.  Nonnie going to heaven.  You getting sick.  It's so raw and painful and yet, we get a happy ending. 

A beautiful new house, jobs we love, our health back. 

Just promise me that when you don't feel well or notice a lump, no matter how small next time you will have it checked out right away. 

I have to admit, I kind of like that each Christmas will be your cancer free anniversaries.  Like an extra gift that you don't think you need to ask for each year but it seems like such a given but isn't a guarantee--life. 

I love you.