i am not the word

When I was going through chemo, I was fortunate enough that Nick was able to come with me to every single appointment. Not only was this unheard of because it was a pandemic and many people weren’t allowed visitors in hospitals and so on, but also work. People tend to have to work and not accompany their significant others to all their appointments.

My chemo was every Monday and Thursday, those are school days. Our schedules consisted of 3 days of synchronous (aka on camera) classes and 2 days of asynchronous (aka off camera but available by email) classes. I hate to say the word ‘fortunate’ when it comes to being able to work during treatment, because the idea of working through treatment makes me spiral right now. But we were fortunate in that because we chose to stay in Ecuador and work, that our school let us rearrange our virtual teaching schedule to accommodate my chemo schedule. We made it so that our asynchronous days were Monday and Thursday and so we were available throughout my chemo, but not usually on camera.

But I digress… all of this made it a no-brainer for Nick. Of course he would come with me to my appointments. Of course he would walk with me to every blood work I had before each chemo week. Of course he would hold my hand through it all. And every time the nurse would prick my skin, without fail, Nick’s hand would be holding my other hand in his.

I am not someone who is scared of needles, or even one who really finds them particularly awful. Blood doesn’t make me queasy but I still prefer not to watch it come out of me into the tubes. But it became like clockwork for us. Nick’s hand would grab mine as soon as he knew the needle was coming for me, instinctively, he was ready.

For me it wasn’t the needle itself, or the blood, or the poison flowing through the tubes and into my bloodstream. It was the WHY that was the hardest part for me. Blood work is just blood work, until your bloodwork is determining your chemo for the week. Or determining if chemo is working. IVs are not usually ever a good sign, let’s be honest, but I have had IVs before and nothing prepares you to sit idly by and watch chemo pump into your veins. I barely felt a thing physically during those moments, unless the nurse had a hard time finding a vein and got poke happy with me. But the emotions, oh boy, the emotions.

I am an emotional person. I am sensitive. I cry. And I no longer make apologies for that (at least I try not to, I am working on that). And when I felt like crying I did. And if I did during chemo it was because my thoughts would spiral out of control. But having Nick there, with his hand enveloping mine, he took on my worries and fears. I knew his hand meant more than just a hand. He was there to take on my darkness and tether me to his light. He wasn’t letting me go through any of it alone.

I know people go through these kinds of things alone all the time. Whether by choice, by circumstance, or whatever the reason. I don’t know how they do it. I like to consider myself a strong, independent woman. But I know that the main reason I got through all that I did, emotionally, was because he was there holding my hand through it all, physically and metaphorically speaking.

I praise this man a lot for all that he did, and though I probably would anyways, another reason is because I have read such horror stories. Partners who leave after diagnosis. Partners who stay but refuse to be a caregiver in any capacity. Partners who stay cause they feel bad, only to leave when the treatment ends. So many situations out there that I cannot even imagine.

Sure, you would expect your love to help you through, in sickness and in health right? But words mean nothing with action. We may not have even been married yet, but this man saw me through my darkest hour and brought me back to the light. And I will never not sing his praises.