I said to somebody the other day that being straight-forward and outspoken is both my strength and weakness. I have learned, often the hard way, that I just can’t say everything I think. As my husband’s caregiver while he’s fighting cancer, I’m sad about the way his adult kids are responding to his illness. In calling out the kids, my wishes are that they get what’s going on. There are better ways of getting my point across than looking somebody in the eye and telling them they’re full of shit, but right now, I’m needing to do that.
We wish to have everything we want. What I want, at this time in my life, is the cancer to be gone from my husband. I want him to feel good, to be finished with the nausea and extreme fatigue from the treatments. I want him to be able to do the things he likes, when he wants to do them.
I wish I could take away the nervousness he has for his upcoming surgery. I wish I could take away the grueling 6-10 week recovery he faces. I wish we could know for certain that after all the treatments, after the surgery, after the recovery, that we will have many more years together. I wish, for his sake, his kids were more involved in his journey.
If wishes were horses…
…I would take away the hurt and disappointment he feels at the lack of concern his children seem to have for his treatment and well-being. He thinks he is not important to them. That he is out of sight and out of mind.
He hears from one child once in a while in text or in a comment prompted by a new post on his website…but never a call. Another has never asked his dad how he’s doing. Not once. There are infrequent texts completely unrelated to his dad’s health but no calls. Ever. Thankfully, he consistently hears from one of the three.
So many people, both family and friends, have constantly offered help. People regularly call to find out how he is, offer to be here to help during and after surgery, offer prayers, send cards, cry with us. There are some significant calls and concerns that are missing. His kids. What they don’t realize is nothing in life is guaranteed – the days are long but the years are short. You never know when the last time you talked to somebody WAS the last time you talked to them.
I’m profoundly sad and disappointed at the kids degree of self-absorption; their deplorable lack of empathy and concern for their dad’s health and life.
My husband chalks it up to “they are what they are.” He is moving forward. He is learning to let go of hurt and disappointment to concentrate on the family and many, many friends that support him.
I wish the kids were among those people. I wish they understood that his perception IS his reality. I wish the kids would make a real effort to show him they whole-heartedly, unequivocally, love and support him. Tomorrow’s a new day. I wish with all my heart this helps them know better so they will do better by him.
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.