Happy Anniversary, love

Today is our fourteenth anniversary. I don't know what the 14th Anniversary signifies. I know it's not paper, silver or gold. In our world every anniversary is dinner at Prime, (fka Anthe's in Portage Lakes).

For the past three years we used to meet there every Friday night when I got off work to celebrate the weekend. Since his near death experience, we've been there once for lunch on his insistence. He was in the midst of that week of hallucinating and doesn't remember being there.

We've always been treated like royalty there, so you can imagine the loving care we've received since Rich's diagnoses. Cindy, JoAnne and Tina have made many wonderful gestures, from cards to special strawberry milkshakes. Since new management, its gotten even better. It's like being at Cheers with amazing food.

JoAnne was thrilled to see us and seat us and just the hint of Rich's chills had her seating us with Rich directly in front of the fireplace. Rich was basking in the warmth, smiling. I was opposite him, well right of the fire place, peeling down to my tee shirt and praying for a respite from hot flashes. We felt almost normal.
The food and service was perfect as always (I swear I have no financial stake in this place and I receive no reimbursement for this blog).

I worked really hard to steer the conversation in the direction of a normal, happy anniversary, and Rich seemed happy to follow my lead. But it's not helpful to ignore the ever-present elephant in the room, and so I gave the devil his due. After we marveled at our wonderful fourteen years and touched on the winding path we've traveled, I asked him if he thought cancer had changed us. He said he was really glad I had asked. He didn't have a ready answer. I think he was just relieved that I could talk about it in a way that makes it less important than everything else we have.

After serious discussion we determined that cancer has had less impact than one would expect. It hasn't made us love each other more. That happens every day regardless for fourteen plus years. It hasn't made us stop taking each other for granted. We've never done that. We have always said Please and thank you to each other, we've always treated each other with the same respect and courtesy we would give to a stranger or visiting dignitary. It hasn't improved our communication. We've always been like “two old women over tea”. We have always talked and chatted about everything from the mundane to politics to current events, the metaphysical, our dreams, our hopes, our fears. We've always been Best Friends.

Cancer has not enhanced or diminished any facet of US. It simply has become a new facet of no greater size or importance in our hearts, though granted it is a bit time-consuming and physically draining.

TMI Alert!!! I'll try to be sensitive and genteel. At the same time, I feel a responsibility to be honest for those who may be struggling with this situation. Because no one in the medical profession will address this aspect of your ordeal. Your sex life will come to a screeching halt with dust swirling, skid marks and a deafening explosion in the back of your brain. Fortunately you won't notice any of this until the dust settles and miles and months down the road you are able to take a breath, sip coffee with pleasure rather than desperation and out of nowhere you are aware that the last time you made love was the last time. I vividly remember that moment. It was last week.

Someone at work wanted to take my picture—despite my argument that such an act would not be appreciated by my witness protection program. To get me to smile she said, “think of sex”. I felt I had been slapped in the face. Up until that point I had not thought of sex. Being told to think of sex, I suddenly heard the screeching halt, the explosion in the back of my brain, and the dust swirled about me.

Fear not—I will not go into details of my personal relationship with Rich anymore than I will discuss my personal relationship with my Creator. I will simply state that like any truly loving relationship, our love was properly and completely translated into the physical up until July 7, 2010.

When the physical changes, the heart finds new ways to translate expression. Simple touch—a hand to a cheek, cuddling on the couch, holding hands....kinder, softer words. Focusing on day to day survival pretty much strangles one's libido. (Which leaves me pretty much confused by the starving in India procreating)

Being a man, Rich has a much harder time dealing with our current limitations. He feels he is disappointing me. I'm grateful he's alive. I keep trying to convince him that making love has very little to do with orgasms. I don't think men get that. I keep telling him that “this” isn't happening to him—it's happening to US—no blame, no harm, no foul. I'll be honest. I very much miss that aspect of our relationship, but I miss it for Both of us, not just me. Without Rich's desire, I have no desire. I am now totally content with each day that he feels better, his smile, his laugh.

If he doesn't get with the program soon I plan on spending three hours contemplating the beauty of his left knee. After extensive kissing, carressing, and adoration of his left knee I predict he will reach total exacerbation at which time I will loudly announce.... “What are you saying?!?! It's only a Body Part? Hmmm.... Too much focus on a mere Body Part? Gee. How will we, as a loving couple, survive without due attention to this Body Part?” Knowing Rich I won't get past the second line before I get a smack upside my Jethro Gibbs haircut.

It's important to TALK about this with your mate. It's important to talk down all those scary words, expectations, feelings and fears. Your mate's imaginings are far worse than the reality. It's like anaerobic organisms. They thrive in the lack of oxygen. Expose such things to oxygen and they wither and die. Expose your fears to discussion and the two of you together can conquer the threats, freeing up more energy to fight the cancer. That's the insidious evil of cancer. It paralyses you with fear and silence so you can't fight.

I've found that the best approach for us is rather than asking Rich to tell me how he feels, I tell him that I need my best friend (him) to listen to how I feel. Since women are better verbally, this approach works really well. I use “I” statements instead of “You” statements. I think he feels less threatened with this and then he opens up and we can really talk.

Today is our anniversary. Fourteen wonderful years. The longest honeymoon I could have imagined. We had a lovely dinner in our tradition. We had a lovely talk and we laughed and celebrated all we've been blessed with and all we've survived. To consider that the “last time” was indeed The LAST Time, seems very inconsequential to me. As long as I can look in his eyes and see how much he loves me... I'm fine.