Today, December 23rd, 2010, Marion and I have been together for 15 years. We have been together through good times and bad. We have weathered many storms, and are facing a true storm right now. I said previously that Marion being diagnosed with cancer was a tremendously sour blow to us, and to the future. Life changed forever on the day Marion was diagnosed for the both of us. Now, we face this trek into the unknown together.
Despite outward appearances, Marion is pretty insecure (at least privately). I learned earlier this week that one of her fears after being diagnosed was that I would leave her. While slightly insulted that she would feel I was so trivial and cold, I understand the underlining fear that was at work there. Marion has been mistreated throughout her life. Whether it was cold parents, abusive relationships, or any number of terrible, truly terrible things that have happened to her in her life. So, I could understand how she must feel...when the going gets tough, people in her life had a way of just leaving her to deal with her issues.
All I can say about Marion is that no one has loved, supported, and stood by me like she has. She has traveled across this country on a whim and a dream just for me. She worked her ass off to provide for us when I went to college. She cooked, cleaned, and made sure I had whatever I wanted because she wanted to make me happy. The thing is she never quite understood that what made me happy was just being with her.
When we first moved in with one another, we would just lie together and talk. If it's one thing Marion can do, that's talk about damn near any topic whether she has any training in it or not. But, that kind of fascinates me in a way because I only talk when I "know" something. Marion isn't too concerned with minor details...if she doesn't know enough about something, she'll improvise. It's kind of impressive and annoying all at the same time.
Regardless, throughout our time together, I have never doubted her love for me. I gave her reasons to give up on what we had, but she has always without question believed and trusted in me simply because she loves me. That's a pretty powerful statement, but in Marion's case it is true beyond a shadow of a doubt. While others have passed me by, Marion has been the one constant in my life for these past 15 years. It may sound cliche to say she completes me or she is my life, but in this case, it's not. We have sheltered each other from this world, and she is truly my home.
Which is why this diagnosis of cancer scares me to death. I try and say to myself that this will all work out, and she'll get better. But, it's the uncertainty that troubles me at this point. I realize we're so close to getting some answers after about three months of trying to get something done. I'm happy that her mammogram came back normal. But, I dread finding out the stage of this cancer. I dread hearing the prognosis as much as I yearn to find out. I'm angry at the first ER doctor who obviously saw a tumor and said NOTHING to us, but referred us to the clinic. I'm angry that the clinic did one biopsy and told us everything was okay, only to admit their mistake and get another sample which came back positive. I'm angry there are incompetent people in charge of people's health. Most of all, I'm angry at a God that could allow all of this to happen while Marion's future is no more certain than it was our first trip to the ER in October.
I am happy that Marion is now (finally) on a path to treatment and quality care with the Cooper Cancer Institute. I am happy my Dad has been by our side for this entire ordeal. I am happy that Marion isn't doing all that bad (yet?). I am happy Marion has gotten increasingly better since the 8th when honestly I almost lost her from blood loss.
But, I fear an uncertain future that I know will be trying to say the least. I fear losing her. We had a talk earlier this week where I basically told her that I would be by her side regardless of any prognosis. I told her she had to stay strong and fight whatever the prognosis. I let her know the 5 year survival rates of the various stages of cervical cancer. And, I let her know that we could beat those numbers. I believe all of that because I believe in Marion and me, that's reality. As the tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, I knew the pain she must be in...of lost dreams, of lost hopes...but, I told her that we can do this...together. And, we will.
So, on our 15th Anniversary, we'll be going to the Women's Care at Cooper University Hospital. While I dread finding out the extent of her condition, I know we both must know. We have to know what we're fighting so we can kick its ass...'cause that's what we do.
Together.
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