Ever since I first heard that Josh has cancer and each time I stop to really digest that fact, it reminds me of how close a wide range of emotions are to the surface for me and for Josh and for the kids as well. Particularly during the days that Josh is back to his normal self (and just seems to perfectly healthy) in between rounds, we forget the battle going on within. Well...nearly.
During our experience at the North Texas Food Bank, we were working side by side with a man who became quite talkative (once we got over the initial "it's not a race" conversation after he snapped at me to hurry up with stacking food he could use to fill boxes to the prescribed weight). We learned a lot about him, his family, his work and his hobbies...and I mean a lot.
Then we got into a conversation about how acidic tomato products are and what they can do to metal in a short period of time (since we were surrounded by cans that had been dented, some to the point of metal touching metal - which we were instructed to throw out). We shared our new knowledge about how cans are lined with BPA-based plastic that leeches into the food and can cause cancer. He quickly said something to the effect that he hadn't heard that and doesn't believe it. Josh's comeback was that he was recently diagnosed with cancer and is doing a lot of reading up on potential causes of cancer and how to eat more healthily to reduce your risks and improve your chances if you've already been diagnosed.
That threw the guy for a loop and he said "I'm sorry to hear that" and immediately asked for more details around the diagnosis, prognosis, etc. Talking about such things with a nearly complete stranger is an odd thing, but still the speaking of the facts shocks you into thinking about the reality of it all.
That same evening, we went to a previously-scheduled family therapy session. While I can rationally acknowledge that the cancer has affected us, I didn't see the depth of that effect until that evening. We started the session with a few exercises: one in which we had to draw a picture together with talking and the second in which we had to draw a picture together while talking.
Then we spent a bit of time talking as a family with the counselor about that experience and what it indicates: the tensions between the kids, the tensions between parents and each child, etc. Then the kids were dismissed to the lobby while the counselor talked to just Josh and me. Just a few words had both Josh and me in tears: "Your whole family is hurting." The kids, while sometimes seeming oblivious to the whole cancer ordeal, are all too aware of the situation and are very worried...about losing their dad. That worry manifests in different ways in each of us, but in some ways the same in all of us.
After the therapy session, we went out to dinner and had one of the best out-to-eat experiences we've had together as a family, talking and laughing, just enjoying the time together. We've also re-instituted one-on-one time with child+parent and parent date nights to make a deliberate effort to slow down and spend enjoyable, quality time together. And we'll keep talking together and one-on-one to ensure that the worries are vocalized and we're dealing with the emotions running right under the surface in a constructive, beneficial way.
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