Coming Home

I’ve been so overwhelmed by the emotions and logistics of trying to get to MD Anderson that I failed to mention a major thing that keeps the person at the center of this in the center. Mark is coming home. He’s been in a medical or therapeutic setting since August 6. It’s no small thing for him that he’s coming home. It’s no small thing for me or the boys, either. I can’t say I’m not scared. I am. It’s both wonderful to think that he’ll be home, and intimidating. He’s going to be where he wants to be — in his house, with his family. We are going to get more time with him in all the little ways that living with someone gives you. At the same time, I am going to add into my current roles a few more. Medicines and transport and a few worries about his safety. He is both independent and in some ways not. He’s himself and yet in many ways so very vulnerable. The appt with the radiation oncologist on Tuesday really challenged me with the big questions: what is life? What gives life quality? For Mark, quality is to be home with his children, in his own bed, in a life that he can recognize. And for me, my best shot at being the best human I can be is to be his partner and help him be where he needs to be, with the people he loves, for as long as possible.