The thing I am realizing these days, with Robin lying on the couch, in a quiet moment while the pain has lapsed; I realize that we take for granted all those normal quiet days. We take for granted those days when we sit quietly with one another and enjoy watching our shows on television, or going out to dinner and a movie. Simple things like not being in pain, not being sick, getting a full night's sleep, those are the things we almost expect.
We had a few days like that a week ago. Robin still had some hair, she was feeling good. We went out with Pete and Leigh a few times, we went on walks with the kids. It was almost like life was a year ago. Before all of this started.
The only source of hope in all this is that we know that the initial tumor is gone, and any of the places it would be most likely to come back are as well. Add to that all the chemo and you have a pretty high cost, but it's worth it to be healed.
The hardest part to move past is the knowledge that life won't go back to the way it was before. This is one of those things that don't go away. That's a new feeling. When I deployed, I came home. Most of the time when you get sick, you get better. Most things pass. When you cut something away, though, it doesn't come back.
It hurts most knowing that I couldn't do anything to protect her from this. As a husband, it's hard to accept that. Once again, at least we only have the last three treatments of Taxol to go through, and then the radiation.
That's what we're holding on to.