Front Row seat

Front Row seat

I think it’s hard for anyone who knows Brian to truly understand how bad he is feeling. 

He doesn’t complain. Text him or see his comments on FB and he’s just Whaley. This week he even took the doctor’s advice and fought the pain and fatigue with some household activity, doing chores. 

I don’t ask him how he feels anymore. While I’d like a detailed update so I can do everything I can to help, he’s mum – doesn’t want to focus on it. So unless a new symptom gets out of control, I don’t necessarily know what symptoms are. 

I do understand Brian’s desire to just plow through it, not give the negative aspects much thought. He sees doctors and gets blood drawn weekly, so we generally know how he’s doing. 

I don’t know what I expected. What it would be like for Brian to have a chemo needle stuck in his arm weekly. Have a radiation machine whirl around him 30 days. I’d say it’s probably stuff we’ll discuss once it’s over.

What I do know is, as a front row spectator, the way Brian is handling this is an impressive lesson in fortitude.

  • Focus on the goal
  • No lamenting the journey – that’s energy wasted
  • Do what’s required to reach your goal with a stiff upper lip
  • Make time for family
  • Be realistic regarding progress  
  • Rest as necessary 
  • Expect setbacks, but don’t let them change your belief in achieving your goal
  • Stay on course

None of this is easy. For any of us. We’ve now had the Holidays and Ella’s 17th  birthday in the thick of treatment.

But Brian saves his best, most energetic self, for us. For a few minutes/hours each day, he’s himself. Is he feeling better during these times? Maybe. But it’s all part of his plan. 

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