My husband and I celebrated our 10 years together as a couple, by getting married. We didn’t do anything fancy; we put on our jeans and had the wedding of our dreams. That’s how I described it jokingly and proudly.

Our children were there, and took our pictures; my parents in-law were our witnesses; dinner in the evening with the family. It was simple, and we loved it. We felt accomplished, refreshed, and ready to continue living.

This was February 2022. Fast forward to June 2022.

My husband was with me in the room when we heard the dreaded words “we are looking at Inflammatory Breast Cancer”.

I remember looking at him. Staring. While time stood still. Not sure if it was because I thought I didn’t hear correctly, or if I wanted to check if he was ok. The first thing I wanted to say to him was “I’m sorry”. Even though it wasn’t my fault. But in that sentence from the radiologist, our dreams, our life together as we knew it, was torn away. I started to think of him being left alone with our kids. To live our life without me. The pain that I would cause. That I started causing at that very moment.

He sat next to me, holding my bag. I saw the shift in his eyes, saw the terror and the panic, and then the quick cover up, so I wouldn’t see. To be strong for me. I was trying to hold it together for the rest of the appointment, during the biopsy, and the talks, and then we got in the car. And I broke down. I ugly cried while he drove us home. When we got home, we just held each other and ugly cried together. And then he told me “you are going to fight this. If anyone can beat this, it’s you”. I promised him I would.

When you get diagnosed with cancer, somehow your partner gets diagnosed as your caregiver. I say “diagnosed” because they didn’t choose for this either. And you might argue that they can always get up and leave, and there have been many cases where a partner couldn’t handle it and walked away. It’s heavy either way. And unfair.

I never doubted for a moment that my husband would stay; never thought that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He has proven to be the best partner I could have ever asked for. From day one. But I was worried about how broken and damaged he would come out of this. And it’s not as if he could talk to me about this in depth. It’s not

exactly healthy to tell your partner while they are going through cancer treatment “I’m scared you’ll die”. It’s a little bit ironic, don’t you think?

Having to take care of a loved one when they are sick, in pain, and scared, is traumatising in itself. You feel useless, no matter what you do, or how much you do. You see them whither, and there is nothing you can do, except cry in the shadows. And because of the fear that cancer brings, a lot of things get buried, and then they explode. Fights happen, and things are said. Mean and hurtful things that are not easy to come back from. We went through that as well, although I believe it wasn’t as bad as it could have been and I’m grateful for that.

We shared many laughs though as well. We didn’t try to act as if everything was alright. We were always good at showing our vulnerabilities to each other from day one. And that had laid the groundwork for us to get through this. We made jokes about the way I looked, about how things tasted for me when I would try to eat and the faces I made while eating. We made plans on where we would go once I was better, and what we wanted to plant in the garden next spring. I promised him I would finally go hiking without whining, and he promised me that he would indulge me in my home projects without mumbling. And now we giggle because we failed to keep those promises, but we also enjoy that we couldn’t keep them, and that we are back to old habits in this new normal.

We discussed the possibility of me dying and that I wanted to be cremated, because: “what if you accidentally bury me alive? Burn me to be sure and then scatter my ashes”. “ What if I want to keep your ashes?” he would say. To which I would respond “Please, get rid of them, you can remember me by a photo, not by my burned cinders… But if you are dead set on keeping them, please add glitter to them, so I can sparkle”. And now it’s settled.

And many more discussions like that.

I wrote a post back in November 2022, after my last chemo (when I didn’t know it was going to be my last chemo treatment) where I talk of our imbalance. Usually we would balance each other out; picking up each other’s loads when the other was maxed out. But during chemo, I was becoming physically weaker by the day, and mentally I was finding it hard to keep up with everything that needed to be done around the house, the children and school and their activities. He took it all on his back and kept on smiling. He cheered me on when I would smile or crack a half hearted joke, he held me when I would lose hope and had no tears left to cry.

I couldn’t have done this without him. Simple as that.

We joke that we took the “in sickness and in health” bit of our vows a little too seriously. In my opinion, we simply checked the “sickness” box and now that’s done and out of the way, so we have nothing more than health to look forward to.

Together.