We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face... we must do that which we think we cannot. Eleanor Roosevelt

Tonight's conversation concerned a subject I am unable to completely wrap my mind around yet; although Sam voiced confidence in me to make the decision when the time comes.  My  mind, however, does not yet allow me, for whatever reason, be it fear, denial, or just flat out do not want to, think about having to make a decision regarding my personal wants or Sam's constant battle with pain.

After our return from Hawaii, we began a routine of me putting lotion on Sam's feet, legs, arms and back.  His skin is so very dry from all the radiation, chemo, drugs, and the crazy Alaska weather, it requires all the additional moisturization it can get.  Tonight he started talking about how much easier it would be to just put his body in a "box" with his head sitting on top, that it would just solve all his problems, the pain, the dryness, the cold and hot spells, whathaveyou.  I have yet to figure out what exactly is in the "box" he referred to, but he did emphasize his mind would still be functioning.  In my attempt to follow this conversation, I told him I am not yet ready for that as I want him to still be able to walk and live as normal as possible and that I do not know if I would ever be able to make that decision.  Sam responded by telling me he is confident I can and will make the decision when the time comes.  It suddenly occurred to me Sam is making every effort to live as normal a life as possible for me and at some point, I am going to find it necessary to tell him it is ok for him to stop.  Ohmigosh.  Are you even able to follow my rambling?  For the first time in weeks I find myself in tears knowing that Sam is continuing to suffer intense pain while trying to keep me happy.  It is more than I can bear.

Sam walking near Bird Point

On the outside, Sam really does appear to be doing great, but obviously, on the inside, he is truly suffering.  At some point, probably sooner than I anticipate, we will need to discuss a different way of managing his pain and that decision will definitely affect his quality of life.  I pray it is still many months away, if not years.  I guess that all remains to be seen.

February 15 is the 9th anniversary of the phone call which brought us together. Hard to believe it has already been 9 years.  I am so grateful he is still here with me.  My goal since his diagnosis has been our 10 year wedding anniversary, so he still has 18 months to go.  How dare I ask him to do that if the pain is too much?  Or perhaps by then, a clinical trial or a new targeted therapy will become available which increases his survival rate and improves his quality of life.  That would simply be awesome.

q'ua