My husband was diagnosed with cancer two months ago. From the moment he told me “I have cancer,” nothing that had happened before mattered. Not a single argument, moment of pain, or disappointment, had any power. All that mattered was that he get well.

And he did.

Last week he had surgery to remove the tumor. I sat beside his bed and held his hand, feeling how small and frightened he had become. My strong, Viking sized man held on to me as if his life depended on it. And I knew I would never let go. 

Love brings ammunition. We join together, set up our walls, dig our trenches, and then hurl bombs at each other without understanding what we’re doing. Everything we’ve been taught since childhood gets thrown on the battlefield; you have to watch for trip wires. The battle will continue until you learn that the person you love can never make you whole. Healing is your job.

My husband slowly heals. The cancer is gone, but his body is scarred. We are both holding our breath to see what happens now. 

The only thing I know is that I love him with all my heart. I will do my best for him, even if I don’t know what to do.