Sep 26, 2006 01:59
I had uterine cancer seven years ago and it metastasized. A radical hysterectomy and brutal doses of chemotherapy still left me feeling, and believing, that I was going to die. I had to let another woman into my life, into my family. I had to because I could no longer take care of my children, run my household and be a wife to my husband. I couldn’t even care for myself in the beginning.
I had conversations with God, with Death. I bargained. Let my family be all right. Let this younger, blonde woman love them and care for them all as if they were her own. Let my husband find love and solace again. Let all of that be and I’d meet the Father with a feeling of peace.
Here’s the funny, maybe ironic, thing: I obviously didn’t die. I got better. Recovered. But I think that God was listening to me back then anyway. Those conversations, the bargains I offered to make. How do I know this? I got everything I asked for. My family is all right. Nikki Grant does love my children and Bill found love again. With her and now with Margie.
The only thing I didn’t get was the feeling of peace in my soul. Maybe I asked for too much. Or was it not enough?
em