I go to sleep tonight hoping Bob is stable enough for chemo tomorrow. Spooning him on the eve of the anniversary of the day we met just twenty-one years ago and praying, wishing, hoping beyond all that is reasonable for twenty-one more years. In reality, I'd be blessed to have that many months.
I've come to wonder things like why don't they make queen-sized hospital beds? Having Bob home for just that first night, being able to lie next to him -- it healed us both. How many patients would benefit from being able to lie next to a loved one?
I've also been overwhelmed by the love and generosity of our friends, family, and complete strangers. If you've lost your faith in humanity, spend an hour in my world. From the janitor who cleaned my husband's hospital room to friends who have adopted my family as their own, know that we are loved, prayed for, and thought of by the most beautiful souls on this planet. I am humbled every single day.