Aside from an unpleasant run in with a newly developed melon allergy this week I've been holding well myself.
Wash has still been "fuzzy" on time - he has a hard time telling the 'how long has it been...' part down with his brain. For him a visit from a year ago feels like yesterday and something he watched an hour ago he might not remember but from when he first saw it in 1989... his sense of time is distorted.
Brain cancer is an odd thing. I have been trying to hold it in my mind how much I need to actively appreciate him as well, not just bemoan my own lack of appreciation. I've told him how I feel, and we have a system where I can be honest with him. I have to remind myself to listen to that same care and give back to Wash for his help, when he does and can remember.
We had a nice spur of the moment date the other day. Decided to go visit the little diner where we spent time as boy and girl friends and got engaged. (Wash publicly proposed with a ring there, we proposed marriage to each other a few weeks earlier at IKEA) and grab some good ice cream. We ended up with fried pickles and a banana split- in two.
It was simple, bad for us but good tasting food, and with sweet sounds on the jukebox playing.
We've managed to get out to the aquarium weekly, still finding things about it to love, watch, explore.
He's almost made it two years with a disease that kills all but 2-3% within 18 months.
It is so powerful and so scary at the same time. Every day I am thankful he is still here, but most nights I fall asleep worrying he will not be waking up the next day.
What is "luck" really then?
Today luck to me feels like the taste in your mouth when you wake and realize that the person you love next to you is still breathing and not dead or gone. That relief tinged with terror at the knowledge that the fear could come true at any time.