It’s Not Me

I’m the caregiver, not the patient.  I have the unpleasant task of observing the process from a powerless position.  I have to make decisions that I hope are right, based on what I think I know, and on what I’m being told.  It’s tough.  My husband is a very social man.  We have a large group of friends.  They all want and need to see him.  But it is exhausting.  It has to be done, but really who is it for?  It comes at a price.  Everyone wants to help, we know this.  Everyone needs to see him, to share their disbelief.  You see one month ago he was absolutely fine, or so we thought.  Today every breath is a challenge.  Cancer in the lungs, cancer in the bones.  A break in his spine and a fracture in his sternum.  Makes breathing tough, coughing almost impossible. The pain is all consuming.  And this is only the beginning.  In a few hours we attend the hospital to put our hope in a group of complete strangers.  My darling husband becomes another file, another case number, another statistic, just another sad story.  This is a journey through hell I’m sure..