My partner has cancer.
He’s remarkably candid about his experiences. He endures both good days and tough ones, sharing his pain, fears, and the obstacles he faces. He discusses his medications, treatments, hair loss, and nausea openly. But there’s so much more behind the scenes that you don’t see.
You don’t witness the moments when he struggles just to stand up or the immense effort it takes him to walk across the room. You don’t see how tying his shoes leaves him breathless, or how a simple shower can require him to rest afterward. You’re unaware of the days when he sleeps for more than 20 hours or the way he jolts awake from nightmares that never seem to leave him.
Sure, he might post a cheerful selfie on a good day or we might capture a moment together, smiling at our favorite restaurant. What you don’t see is that getting dressed that day demanded every ounce of his energy, or that our entire outing was primarily a doctor’s appointment followed by a quick bite—only if he was feeling well enough. And you wouldn’t guess that such a small venture could completely exhaust him for the rest of the day.
You don’t perceive the urgency in his needs, nor the challenge of finding food he can actually tolerate. You’re not aware of the nights he spends awake, his body betraying him. And you probably don’t notice the sharp angles of his bones visible beneath his clothes or the weight he’s losing. You don’t see the tension in the air as we weigh ourselves, holding our breaths, exchanging worried glances while we await the numbers.
You’re not privy to the days he’s confined to our bedroom, trapped in his chair, tears streaming down his face as he worries about me or mourns the future for our children. You don’t see the nights I sit on the bathroom floor, silently crying until my eyes swell shut, mascara streaking my cheeks. You don’t see the drives I take alone, music blaring, screaming at the sky—angry and lost. But then again, he doesn’t see that either.
Here’s what else you might miss.
You don’t see him by my side at family dinners, community events, or even at our kids’ activities. You can’t witness the pain he endures just to stand, sit, or lie down. You don’t see the shadow of sadness for all he’s missing or the flicker of heartbreak in my eyes because I miss him so dearly.
My partner has cancer.
He’s incredibly open about his journey, his struggles, the pain, and anxiety. You notice his strength, his courage, and his determination. But there’s a whole world of unspoken battles that you don’t see.
If you want to dive deeper into similar topics about journeying through health challenges, check out this insightful post from our other blog. For more information on home insemination, consider visiting Make a Mom, they are an authority on this subject. Additionally, you can explore UCSF CRH for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, while my partner’s cancer journey is marked by openness and strength, it also encompasses many hidden struggles and challenges that go unseen by the outside world.
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