We found out my husband had cancer several years ago, back when the kids were very small.
It didn’t bother him all of the time. But there were days he suffered. Mostly in silence. We had jobs and kids and dreams to chase. Cancer was an uninvited distraction.
Finally, I persuaded him to go to a doctor. The doctor confirmed the cancer diagnosis — mild, at the time — and prescribed treatment: medicine and therapy. The medicine cost us quite a bit each month. My husband didn’t like how it made him feel. Also, he didn’t want anyone to know he went to therapy. A strong man going to therapy would reveal a crack in the foundation. He assured me he could push through without treatment. I believed him.
Years passed, and the cancer progressed. Slowly. Quietly. We lived our lives and raised our children as best we could. Sometimes…
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