“You are a victim.” I stood there with every fiber in me wanting to fight back with words to make every argument that I wasn’t a victim. Instead, I stood there silently allowing the words to penetrate my walls so that I could see what they saw.
It was as if the gun had just went off at the raceway, but two thoroughbreds had already taken the second quarter turn before we could even get off of the starting blocks. It was the race of our lives and we needed to chase down not just one quarter horse, but two. The cancer quarter horse and the out of control havoc causing fluid horse. It was a race I was afraid we would lose. For the first time in this journey, it was a race I was afraid we had fallen too far behind.
Shouldn't packing up my husband be a joyous occasion? Is it the fact that I have come to love so many of the nurses, doctors and staff here at CHIPSA Hospital that every goodbye hurts? Is it the fact that we finally get to go home and my heart is happy that the treatments are working? Is it the fact that they have cared for my hubs so well that fear is setting in on what the next 90 days requires of us at home? I imagine its all of the above.