#Cancer #Crohn's and #Covid19

Imagine this:

You are ​stuck inside a cement box and you cannot get out. There are no seams, there is no opening, and inside you sit, hunkered on your knees, head hanging, muscles tense, hands fisted, heart in a searing clutch of unending pain.  You hear a scream and your body trembles in response to the agony outside. Once again you lift your shoulders and press against the top of the box until your muscles quiver and sweat beads around your forehead water-falling down your face.  You do this day after day after day. While...

Outside, in the darkness, the person you hold most dear begs for your help. Once again you struggle against the cement, knowing you are helpless, as is he, to the capriciousness of a God who does not answer your prayers. You are alone. You are trapped. In a world where nothing makes sense and you pray that God is big enough to handle your anger and hatred. 

Stage four esophageal cancer with metastatic lesions in multiple organs. It is inoperable, but it is not without hope. Unless you listen to the doctors. You cradle the head you have held for years. You tell him you love him, that you are there for him, but you cannot reach him, not really, because you are stuck inside a cement box that has no exit. 

And here I will live for quite some time. I will continue to push against the cancer that threatens to take my husband.  I have no words of wisdom, no magic prayers or incantations. Everything I thought was important, like writing, and books, and reading is so not important.  It has taken me almost four months to write this blog. And it comes with an anger and fear that threatens to overwhelm me. For every two steps forward there are four back. 

What is important is the family and friends you hold dear. Those you cannot see because some random virus like Covid-19 has decided to lock everyone into their homes. The children come, they stay six feet apart from us. We have not been able to hug or kiss our grandchildren since this quarantine began. Their grandfather must be very careful. The pallative chemo and radiation along with my Remicade for Crohn's has kept their immune compromised grandparents far, far away from those they hold most precious. 

I don't social media much anymore. I prefer to spend my time with those I cannot touch and those I can. I knew that at some point I would write this, I didn't know when I'd be strong enough.

Today I am.