FIVETRIBE

Yesterday was horrific. Russ refused to eat, drink, get out of bed or communicate.  I cried most of the day. This morning as I turned over in our bed, my heart in my throat, I found him awake and alert. I could sense today was not going to be an ordinary day. I was right. 'Babe I am so sorry about yesterday. I just checked out.  I may be sinking into depression. I am just so tired. I don't know if I can do this. I am so sorry.' Instant tears leapt from my eyes as I saw my once strong man, now bedridden, crumble in agony at his admission. I took his hand, reminded him of our conversation three months ago, where we agreed that when he felt his fight was over that it would be OKAY. The assurance fell from my lips as I promised that, until his last breath, I would fight on his behalf. The rest of us will fight but he does not have to live up to our expectations. He can rest in the freedom of knowing others have got his back. He reached across and ...

It has been four months. Four months of unabated hardship.  (woe is me) There have been silver linings; moments of sweetness but only because we have truly sought them. If I look back, in wordly terms, we have had a pretty kak time. At every turn worst case scenario has bitten us.  I cannot tell you how many times I have heard a doctor say these words in the last few months; in a variety of contexts : "Unfortunately this can happen, it's unusual but it can happen. I am so sorry." I have long ago given up asking the infuriating WHY question. All this did was make me angry, bitter, confused and ultimately completely unsatisfied. I have simply had to settle for the HOW. How do I get up today? How do I make it through this hour?  How do I know if this pain will ever stop? How do I make sure I survive and am enough to take care of the emotional needs of my kids? How do I tackle the horrors of admin, banks, lawyers, home affairs and SARS in the face...