Thursday, July 26, 2012
Some of my feelings can't immediately be spoken out loud for a number of reasons but today as I googled "cancer clinical trial databases" I realized I've been down this path twice now. Trying to save the lives of those who are/have been dearest to me.
First my sister, as I wanted so much to "Fix" after a Vanderbilt University visit spelled it out for us with the six month long goodbye of Liver Cancer that was already through her lymph nodes. It was over in six weeks.
Now my husband got the horrible news with a six week life extension. Two weeks ago. I still can't remember (I block terrible words often) what kind of cancer it is. It's irrelevant. It's the killing kind and it's all over him in all of his body tissue. Sounds like chodachrome or chrome-something. Each time my mind tries to retrieve that foul evil word, it even quicker snaps back and erases it again.
He is the one person I've had all along that with everything in life you go through you look at that one person and say, "Whoa, I'm so thankful to have him. Or what would I ever do without him?"
My husband and saddle pal, Steve Cook, is 65 years old and we have been married since 1987. 12 months later, our daughter, Skyler Laurel, arrived. He's always been a blues guitar player and that was what he was doing when I met him.
Strange how those annoying little things he used to do no longer annoy me.
Okay. Want to write down the organic feelings and not worry about grammar, etc, so here goes #1.
UPDATE: Found this today in my draft folder and wanted to publish it now. Steve died peacefully August 14, 2012, after being taken off of life support. I will never be the same person without him. He is cremated and his urn sits on my mantle.