It's Not Over

It seems that some of you thought that once the wedding was over, the writing would stop too.

Nope.

I think people were thinking that my wedding was a way to celebrate the end of my battle, but the battle isn't over yet. Yes, it was an amazing, perfect day. It was the day I'd been dreaming about since Jimmi proposed last September. It was everything I'd hoped it would be and I'm so lucky that God was on my side that day to get me through it.

But I'm still in the middle of the fight for my life.

I should be in Bora Bora right now. We were supposed to leave on the Friday after the wedding for an amazingly romantic honeymoon. But, instead, I spent the week having chemo treatments. I know, I shouldn't complain. I did what I set out to do on September 3rd, against all odds. But I can't help feeling a little bit sad that I'm not sitting in my private, over-water hut staring down into the crystal blue water at a school of tropical fish.

Also, I know this is probably way too much information, but I'm sad about something else, too. How can I put it delicately for people like my dad, who will be reading this? Let's just say that I'm still broken down below. I haven't been given my dilators yet, so I haven't been able to stretch out what the radiation shrunk, so I haven't been able to perform my wifely duties.

And it sucks.

I feel badly for Jimmi. No, he hasn't complained at all. He just wants me to get better. But what if I don't? I mean, what if the cancer is gone, but I'm left without the use of my nether region? What if I can use it but it hurts and it's uncomfortable and I just don't want to? What kind of wife will I be?

I know I shouldn't be worrying about this. I know I need to keep my eye on the prize, as "wishbone Jen" would say. I know I need to get through one more chemo cycle in two weeks, then have scans from head to toe to make sure this bastard is out of me. I know I need to follow up every three months to make sure it STAYS out of me. But I still can't help wondering about the quality of that part of my life.

I know what everyone will say. "At least you'll have a life." And it's true. Hopefully, I've fought hard enough and hopefully the bitch won't come back. Hopefully I'll be around to watch my babies grow up and graduate and get married and have their own babies.

But I still can't help feeling scared and depressed over this one little issue.

Think about it. Think about starting a brand new marriage with the love of your life. Think about the many years you hope to have with that person. Think about forever. Then think about not being able to fully express your love for that person. Think about what it would do to your relationship. Think about the stress and the worry that if you can't do it, someone else will. I don't want to think about it, but I have to.

As I sit here on my deck feeling the waves of nausea left over from last week's doses of poison, I can't help but wonder what's in store for me. My wig is itchy and my arms are bruised and my heart is aching. I miss my kids so much. They should be here right now, but I'm not well enough to be their mom. I only see them if I'm feeling up to it, and it's just not enough. Are they forgetting about me? Do they think I've abandoned them?

I guess this is the crash after the high of the wedding day. I had so much to look forward to and so much to work for. Now I just have the reality of my life.

No more fairy tales, no more daydreams.

Just life.