Love

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The word "cancer" seems to leave most people at a loss for words.  I found this out first hand 16 months ago.  I was diagnosed with breast cancer and left the doctor's office in a daze.  Upon arriving home I gave my husband the "verdict."  He had very little to say about it; I NEEDED to talk about it.  What a pair we made!

In the time period between my diagnosis of breast cancer and the time of the actual surgery, my husband would only talk about it if pressed into a conversation.  I felt alone, very depressed, and unloved.  I didn't think he really cared for me or he would (at a time like this) BE there for me and show me moral support of some form or another.

The morning of my surgery we were at the hospital bright and early.  We just made small talk as we awaited my appointed hour.  It still amazes me how one can sit and chit chat about inconsequential things when their very life is about to be altered in a permanent way.

When the nurse came to wheel me away to pre-op, she said it would be ok for my husband to ride down in the patient's elevator with us.  He accompanied us as far as the waiting area and the nurse said we would continue on and that he could wait here.

There were several people already in the waiting area, and right in front of the nurse and the other people, my husband bent down and kissed me and said, "I love you."  This is something that the nurse had probably heard quite often, but you need to realize that for my husband to do this in PUBLIC, I was shocked to my socks (if I'd been wearing any!).  At that point I finally realized that he DID care.

I had a bi-lateral mastectomy and was released the next morning.  I felt fine as far as the surgery goes.  However, I was concerned about my "appearance" and how my husband would accept all this.  The surgeon had given me permission to take a tub bath if I so desired, so long as I kept the drainage tubes out of the water.

My husband offered to help me, and since I had four drainage tubes to contend with, I took him up on the offer.  I figured he may as well see me like this and get it over with already.  It seems that perhaps it was easier for HIM than it was me.  I looked at myself in the mirror, bit my lip to keep from crying, and got into the tub.

My husband started giving me a bath as if I were a small child.  He kept up a stream of idle chit chat the whole while as if this were a normal part of our daily routine.  Finally I couldn't keep the tears back any longer and he heard me sniffle.  At first he just kept right on with the bath, but finally he hugged me (as best he could under the circumstances) and told me he loved me. He said it didn't matter to him that I'd had both breasts removed.  He told me the important thing to him was that all the cancer had been removed and that I got well.

I had always felt close to my husband and had always considered him a friend.  But at that moment in the bathroom, I suddenly knew what the words "best friend" and "soulmate" meant.

T. Davis
Copyright 1999