Time Being

The love I thought was strong enough to get me through this is in trouble. We met only 6 months before my diagnosis so it is a shock that he stayed at all. But, he did and he was great. Not great, incredible. And then chemo ended. Physically, I started to rebuild. Emotionally, I was and still am a mess. Instead of the supportive man he was during the most physically taxing portion of my treatment (TCHP), he started to turn on me. Perhaps the price was as expected…too high.

A passage in a book I’m reading struck me as a truth so vivid and terrifying I had to put it down for a while:

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I don’t know how much time I have. Neither do you. A unique difference between me and most others is that, because of cancer, I have a deep and visceral sensation of time as it is happening. I feel it all around me, in every breath and mostly in every smile. I also feel it in every moment of sadness. I can feel time going away. It causes me enormous stress, which I try to relieve by packing my life so full of things that I won’t feel cheated when the time is up.

I tried to define clear goals and hoped that he would support them or even share them. But, he didn’t and that hurts.

While it is completely unfair to expect anyone to share the sensation of circling the drain with me, those around me must be above average in the gentle department or they must leave. I admit I’m fragile, sensitive, and anxious, personality flaws that don’t usually do well in the relationship game. The instability of my life is on par with California’s fault lines. I needed extra love and instead I got yelling, leaving, and confusion.

Eventually, the hurt began to span weeks, months, and now even years, time I wasn’t sure I’d have and certainly not time I wanted to waste. Was cancer the culprit? Yes, in a way. Cancer took everything from me and left me to pick up the pieces where they lay. Cancer made me need more out of the time I have left, a lofty predicament indeed. But, cancer also opened my eyes to the preciousness of time and how I had been spending it. There just is no going back.

I’m definitely struggling with letting go of the only comfort I had during my terrible treatment. But, like all things – winter, reading War and Peace, even cancer – this too shall pass. I hope there is something better waiting for me on the other side.