Today I realized that I miss Daniela. But it's not so much Daniela I miss, because I see her every day. I miss the Daniela who I knew prior to my being deep inside a Stage II Rectal Cancer treatment. Who she has to be - or chooses to be actually - as my care taker is absolutely extraordinary as I have acknowledged on more than one occasion. I wouldn't change a thing. You're the greatest, sweetheart!
I'm not sure if I can articulate these feelings, but I will do my best.
I miss the Daniela who I joined on Saturday evening trips to the books store. I miss the Daniela who took walks with me in the evening or late at night in awe of the stars. It's the conversations that were different. Our current conversations often revolve around what often occurs as a very "heavy" subject - my cancer treatment. Now make no mistake, I believe who we are and who we will be in the future is powerfully and quite positively influenced by this cancer experience. But I look forward to having conversations about how we can contribute to our community and what ways we can truly make a difference in the world. And how we can be the change we want in the world. Not just what we can do to make this cancer treatment process and experience work more efficiently and effectively.
I miss the woman who didn't look at the pain and discomfort I experience with sadness and a wish that I have more relief. I miss the woman who was free to be someone who to be quite honest, wouldn't be appropriate right now. We must take this healing on as a powerful team and I believe we do. And I look forward to when we can look back at this and remember what it was like and discuss it as one of the many topics we come across.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
Wow, thank you Bert. This posting is so touching, beautiful and amazing. It’s also a great tribute to an incredible woman.
ReplyDeleteI think you articulated your feelings quite well.
I love you guys,
Bert,
ReplyDeleteI totally identify with this post... life is so different inside cancer treatment, and our intimate relationships are so affected by it. Our friend and lover becomes our caregiver, and romance and companionship fade into the background.
But, as I continue to get stronger in my recovery, MaryGail and I get to do things again like going shopping, or to dinner, or to the bookstore, or taking walks (although I still don't walk all that far!). And some things are starting to feel normal again, including our ability to focus on things other than the cancer while we share in social activities.
I, too, look forward to that time in the future, when this cancer experience has been integrated into my identity as a person, and into our history as a couple, but ceases to dominate our lives.
It will happen.
Maria Brown