Three's Company Four's A Crowd

Last week in group, we rehashed what I had said about giving my cancer to a sibling if I could take it away from myself.  It seems that this is a hard concept for these ladies to understand.  (And of course, I find that hard to understand.)

Irregardless, I respect it.  I do not have to understand their truth; I just need to accept it as their truth.

I said I would even give it to my husband rather than have it.  I think Bernice thought that maybe I wasn’t crazy about my husband because she asked me what he was like.

I felt tears rise in my eyes and my heart beat a little faster.  Amazing, I said.  He is amazing.  Very kind.  A really good person.

He is a handsome man, one I adore and take for granted every day.  As if there will always be another day, every day.

I know I am a person of many peculiar thoughts.  One thought I have is that my marriage consists of three entities.  Wahid, me, and the marriage.  Our three was very good company indeed.  Now, however, we have a fourth who has joined our merry little group.  That entity is cancer and it can make us (me in particular) feel very crowded.

The fourth steals from us, it sneaks up on us at any time of the day or night.  Boo it screams.  It calls us dreamers.  It adds nothing to the company.  Cancer is always contrary, when we are happy it wants to make us miserable.  It rarely showers.  It is stinky and full of ka ka.

I don’t consider myself or Wahid to be rude people but we do snub the fourth.  We are as happy as we can be at any given time, until we are not.

This is a conversation between Wahid and I that has occurred many times.  You will see how the fourth always tries to win and how the third does not allow it too.

“I fucking hate this cancer.”

‘Well dearest.’

“I don’t want to have this cancer.  I am going to die anyway, why the hell am I putting myself through this shit.”

‘Well dearest, we have to go through the process.’  (Jill in the group pointed out how relevant it is that my husband uses the term WE.)

As simple as this conversation is, it is the conversation we have.  Wahid knows me to a tee.  He knows I don’t want to hear crap.  He knows I just want him to be with me.  He knows that I know and that the third knows that he can’t fix it; he can only be there for me.  Being there for me is where the third has its greatest power.

Wahid is very wise.  He is probably the most modest man you would ever meet.  One of the things that is very different (we have many differences) about us is that he is not arrogant and does not believe that he has the answers to my problems.  He does not take on the fixer role.  He knows better.

I can count on Wahid and he can count on me.  I know that he will stand in the centre of the fire with me and I know that he will not shrink back.  While the fourth tries to destroy us, he and the third will hold me up.

So as you can see it is not that I don’t love my husband (or my siblings) it is that I love me.  I love them and I love me.  I would never want them to have cancer along with me;
after all two wrongs would not make it right.

Dearest Wahid:

You, me.
Then, now.
Us, always.

Love Renee