Fear

I’m scared.

Let’s be honest here. My girlfriend has cancer: there’s a lot to be scared about.

• Doctor’s given her a 30-40% chance of surviving past five years. If she can go that long without the leukemia reappearing, she’s ‘cured’. Maybe.
• While her four-year-old refers to me as “Daddy Phil”, Kristy and I aren’t married, and I have no legal rights to the kid. Should Kristy not make it, I have to rely on her ex to allow me be part of the little one’s life.
• Even if the cancer goes away, the side effects of the chemotherapy will affect her for the rest of her life. She will most likely never have another child.

And I’m scared.

I’m scared of losing her, of losing the kid, of losing the life and family that I’ve finally found. I was with Lisa for 11 years and we never made the family that I have now. I’ve known Kristy for fourteen years, never knowing that she was even interested until last year, and now that we’re finally together, I could lose her.

I’m not crying here. I don’t feel like wailing at the unfairness of the universe (well, not much anyway). We have a large and wonderful support system, and Kristy is at the best cancer centre getting the best care from the best doctors. We have everything we need to give her the best chance possible.

Doesn’t make me any less scared. I’ll be scared through the next two chemo treatments. I’ll be scared while we wait for the results of the bone marrow aspiration to see if she’s still in remission. I’ll be scared every time she seems weak or pale, any time in the next five years.

And likely for ever after that. She’s living on the precipice of existence, and she could go over the edge at any time.

It doesn’t matter how strong my arms are. I won’t be able to pull her back if she falls.