This Body is Bullshit

Over the weekend, my husband lost a friend. A good man—kind, private, and strong—who fought cancer quietly. He didn’t let many people in on just how bad it was until about a year ago. He lived across the country, which made it hard for his friends to be physically present. They tried. But he kept most of it to himself. That was just his way.

It’s heartbreaking. He’d already lost his wife to leukemia over a decade ago. And now, their daughter—barely in her twenties—has lost both of her parents to cancer. That’s the part that guts me the most. No one should have to carry that kind of grief so young.

This group of guys—my husband and his closest friends—are all just past 50 now. And this loss has shaken them. They’ve reached that stage of life where things start to shift. Where health isn’t guaranteed and friends become family. Just as they’re grieving one friend, another is on the edge. One of their friends’ wives is in hospice now, also battling cancer. The grief is overlapping. There’s no space to process one loss before another wave crashes in.

And then today, someone from work came by—a guy who’s been out on leave. Someone I’ve gotten to know well. He didn’t come to talk business. He came to say goodbye. He’s tired. He’s choosing hospice. And he wanted to see everyone one last time while he still could.

It’s all too much. So much loss. So much sadness. And still, everyone keeps going. Keeps trying to show up. Keeps trying to smile. To hold space for each other. But it hurts.

There was some good news this week. And honestly, I’ll take the silver linings wherever I can find them. My dear, sweetest friend—who was told she had a tumor in her ear—was instead diagnosed with Ménière’s disease. That comes with vertigo, hearing loss, and other issues, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the original diagnosis, which included brain damage or paralysis of half her face. That’s a win. Now we just need to keep her out of the damn sun so she stops getting carved up for skin cancer—because I fully plan on growing old with her. She’s my spirit animal and moon phase goddess.

Also, my sister’s sister-in-law—another one in the fight—got promising news. Her treatment seems to be working. And that gives us all a little hope.

I don’t have any profound thoughts or clean takeaways here. Just this overwhelming urge to hug the people I love and never let go.

Cancer fucking sucks.
I hate it.