Dysfunctional Planner

I can’t decide wether to publish this post or not. It’s not my story. If you are reading it, I pushed the button.

It’s not my body or my health.

So maybe if I write it it can be from my perspective rather than from my husbands.

Fuck it. He may have cancer. He is currently being tested and it’s so scary I am 90% fine then it hits me.

A rabbit hole of shit.

Cancer.

Death.

The rest of my life without my husband in it.

I can’t bear it and I can’t break down in front of him either because he needs me to be strong. Last night we held each other and cried.

He has discussed his funeral and what he wants.

We are having conversations we never wanted to.

We are organising our affairs, making updates to my life insurance whilst I am healthy.

It’s been Ridiculously tough. We have both been thinking the worse and tumbled down the cancer rabbit hole of worse case scenario.

Stage 4…… the cancer has spread and we have months instead years.

I want years.

I want healthy years and years.

I want to grow old with my husband.

There is a large growth in his rectum, this isn’t nothing.

This is hell.

My heart goes out to everyone who has been in the same situation.

It sucks.

There is no escaping it. Every time I focus on something this dark cloud ebs into my peripheral vision and mind.

Our friends and family have been amazing. We have a lot of support.

Cancer haunts you.