I figured hearing the news we got on Tuesday would have caused that cold, creeping dread. A kick in the gut feeling, a breathless, frantic panic.
But all I could do was raise my hands to my face and cry.
Prince Charming hadn’t been feeling well. Flu like symptoms and a recurring infection had him at the Dr. Monday morning.
I remember telling him, after he told me about his follow up visit scheduled for the next day, that if he had diabetes I was going to be so mad at him. For years I’d been on to him about his weight. His father is a type 2 diabetic and his older brother was diagnosed this year.
I was not expecting cancer.
Acute Myelogenous Leukemia.
My husband has fucking cancer.
My soul aches
We meet with an oncologist/hematologist next week, but his PCP seems to think his prognosis will be good. After all, he’s only 33.
There is just all that pesky stuff in between now and then that we’ll have to deal with.
I found this saying on Pinterest last Sunday. It struck a chord at the time and it’s even more potent now for me and Prince Charming.