Austin Wesley Watson-Shaw (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fraternalfashionista) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2014-01-25 09:14 am
fraternalfashionista) wrote in muserevival2014-01-25 09:14 am
Quote of the day #33
“Acceptance doesn't mean resignation; it means understanding that something is what it is and that there's got to be a way through it.” -Michael J. Fox
There is nothing in the world that can prepare you for hearing the horrible news that your husband's cancer is back. You go through all that stages of grief stuff that I used to think was BS, but it really isn't. Denial -- You definitely go through that. Because this can't be happening to your husband, to the man you love who is so damn full of life. Trust me, I was right there, too. I didn't believe it. Not my Beau. Not the man who wakes me up in the middle of the night because he just suddenly woke up and wanted pancakes and bacon, and he wanted to share with me. It can't be true because he is too fucking alive to ever face dying again.
Anger -- Oh, yeah, I know anger. I know anger in a way that I never imagined possible. Because when everything seems perfect -- you're happily married, head over heels in love, on top of the world with your career, and living dreams you never even imagined, there is nothing in the world you ever expect to bring you down. But when you hear that your husband isn't in remission anymore, that he's sick again, that he's going to have to fight for his life all over again? Damn right you get angry because it isn't fair. Cancer is never fair, it's just a fucking awful thing that hurts people you love, and you find yourself wishing that Cancer were a human being so you could punch it in the face or something -- so you'd have something to take that anger out on. But it's not. It's this fucking thing that you can't see or control... the only evidence it exists is how fucking awful it makes people who have it feel. Sometimes, yes, I know anger, because nothing makes you more angry than watching the people you love hurt and not being able to do anything to stop it.
Bargaining comes in on nights like a couple nights ago, where Beau blacks out on me, and the few moments before he comes to are the longest, most sickening moments of my life. I find myself wondering if this is it. Is this the night that I lose my husband forever? Become a widower after only being married a few months? And that's when I start bargaining. Whatever higher power there is, I swear if you'll just let him wake up, just let him live a little longer, just give me my husband back, I'll do anything. I'll give all my earnings to charity... I'll die instead... Horror of horrors, I'll wear Wal-Mart clothes for the rest of my life. Just don't take him from me. Please don't take him. He doesn't deserve to die. Not until he's like a hundred years old and we have nieces and nephews out the ass... maybe even a kid of our own if we decide to go that route. We haven't even gotten to talk about things like that yet.
And that usually leads to the depression, where I lie awake nights when he's sleeping, and I can't do anything but cry. Because he's sick, and I love him. He sleeps fitfully, he aches, he wakes up sick sometimes, and other times I worry he won't wake up at all. He's sick. My beautiful husband is really sick, and there's nothing I can do to take it away. And if that doesn't hurt like fuck, I don't know what does. I try to be strong for him, but there are nights -- pretty commonly, I might add -- where I break, too. Sometimes I make it until he's asleep, but other times, he's in pain and he's sobbing in my arms, and I hold him and cry, too, because there is nothing I can imagine that hurts me more than seeing him hurting. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, or I go to my twin because I need a shoulder to cry on and Beau's so damn tired and ill that I don't want to make him feel any worse. And in those moments, I am so grateful to be a twin, and have one who is so amazing. Without my loved ones, I don't think I'd ever be out of the depression thing.
The final stage in that whole stages of grief model is acceptance, but I think what that means has to vary for different people. For me, I don't accept that cancer is going to take my husband from me. I do accept that he has it, and that it's a battle we're going to keep fighting together until it's over. I do accept that it could take him from me. But not that it's going to. My husband has cancer. But he's also beaten it once before, and until I know something different, he's going to beat it again. We're going to do this together, and I will not give up on him. I never have... From the very start, when I was just an obnoxious twink in a bar refusing to leave him alone when he wasn't impressed with the FedEx line. And I'm not going to leave him alone now, or ever. Acceptance doesn't mean giving up. It means knowing what you're facing, and accepting that you have to keep fighting until there's nothing left. And no matter what happens, I'm going to keep fighting right beside him, because if you've ever met Beau Watson-Shaw, you know... He's more than fucking worth it.
Austin Watson-Shaw::Original Character
Beau Watson-Shaw ishalfwaytoheaven
There is nothing in the world that can prepare you for hearing the horrible news that your husband's cancer is back. You go through all that stages of grief stuff that I used to think was BS, but it really isn't. Denial -- You definitely go through that. Because this can't be happening to your husband, to the man you love who is so damn full of life. Trust me, I was right there, too. I didn't believe it. Not my Beau. Not the man who wakes me up in the middle of the night because he just suddenly woke up and wanted pancakes and bacon, and he wanted to share with me. It can't be true because he is too fucking alive to ever face dying again.
Anger -- Oh, yeah, I know anger. I know anger in a way that I never imagined possible. Because when everything seems perfect -- you're happily married, head over heels in love, on top of the world with your career, and living dreams you never even imagined, there is nothing in the world you ever expect to bring you down. But when you hear that your husband isn't in remission anymore, that he's sick again, that he's going to have to fight for his life all over again? Damn right you get angry because it isn't fair. Cancer is never fair, it's just a fucking awful thing that hurts people you love, and you find yourself wishing that Cancer were a human being so you could punch it in the face or something -- so you'd have something to take that anger out on. But it's not. It's this fucking thing that you can't see or control... the only evidence it exists is how fucking awful it makes people who have it feel. Sometimes, yes, I know anger, because nothing makes you more angry than watching the people you love hurt and not being able to do anything to stop it.
Bargaining comes in on nights like a couple nights ago, where Beau blacks out on me, and the few moments before he comes to are the longest, most sickening moments of my life. I find myself wondering if this is it. Is this the night that I lose my husband forever? Become a widower after only being married a few months? And that's when I start bargaining. Whatever higher power there is, I swear if you'll just let him wake up, just let him live a little longer, just give me my husband back, I'll do anything. I'll give all my earnings to charity... I'll die instead... Horror of horrors, I'll wear Wal-Mart clothes for the rest of my life. Just don't take him from me. Please don't take him. He doesn't deserve to die. Not until he's like a hundred years old and we have nieces and nephews out the ass... maybe even a kid of our own if we decide to go that route. We haven't even gotten to talk about things like that yet.
And that usually leads to the depression, where I lie awake nights when he's sleeping, and I can't do anything but cry. Because he's sick, and I love him. He sleeps fitfully, he aches, he wakes up sick sometimes, and other times I worry he won't wake up at all. He's sick. My beautiful husband is really sick, and there's nothing I can do to take it away. And if that doesn't hurt like fuck, I don't know what does. I try to be strong for him, but there are nights -- pretty commonly, I might add -- where I break, too. Sometimes I make it until he's asleep, but other times, he's in pain and he's sobbing in my arms, and I hold him and cry, too, because there is nothing I can imagine that hurts me more than seeing him hurting. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, or I go to my twin because I need a shoulder to cry on and Beau's so damn tired and ill that I don't want to make him feel any worse. And in those moments, I am so grateful to be a twin, and have one who is so amazing. Without my loved ones, I don't think I'd ever be out of the depression thing.
The final stage in that whole stages of grief model is acceptance, but I think what that means has to vary for different people. For me, I don't accept that cancer is going to take my husband from me. I do accept that he has it, and that it's a battle we're going to keep fighting together until it's over. I do accept that it could take him from me. But not that it's going to. My husband has cancer. But he's also beaten it once before, and until I know something different, he's going to beat it again. We're going to do this together, and I will not give up on him. I never have... From the very start, when I was just an obnoxious twink in a bar refusing to leave him alone when he wasn't impressed with the FedEx line. And I'm not going to leave him alone now, or ever. Acceptance doesn't mean giving up. It means knowing what you're facing, and accepting that you have to keep fighting until there's nothing left. And no matter what happens, I'm going to keep fighting right beside him, because if you've ever met Beau Watson-Shaw, you know... He's more than fucking worth it.
Austin Watson-Shaw::Original Character
Beau Watson-Shaw is
halfwaytoheaven