The C-word

Leukemia. It's amazing how much that little word has changed our life. It's only been two days since the diagnosis, and I'm still trying to comprehend really what this means, but I do know that things aren't going to be the same. At least not for a while. You are always aware of the possibility that cancer can happen to anyone, but you never truly think it will happen to you. You especially never think that the love of your life is going to be affected by it, and that the road ahead is going to be extremely long and hard. But as was confirmed on Friday, it really can happen to anyone.

 On Friday, Jake was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL). This is a very aggressive form of leukemia, and while it's quite common as far as childhood leukemias, it's very rare as an adult. To add insult to injury, Jake also tested positive for the Philidelphia Chromosome, which means that he will need a bone marrow transplant. We were really hoping that this wasn't the case, but it is what it is and you have to play the cards you're dealt. I never really understood what a loved one goes through when hearing that a spouse or child or other close friend or family member is dealing with a new diagnosis such as this. Honestly, I'm not sure I understand what I'm going through now. Some of the thoughts that have gone through my mind are such:

 "No way. Those tests have to be wrong. My husband is healthy!"
 "What the hell am I supposed to do if he dies?"
 "A month in the hospital?! Are you kidding me?!"
 "Does this mean no more babies?"
 "How are we going to pay for all of this?" and then that's followed by "Does it matter? Jake's more important than the money. We'll figure something out."

 Of course, that's a very condensed and scattered list of some of the things I've thought. My thought process through this whole thing has been much less than organized. And it turns out that we may not have anymore babies, depending on how things go between now and the transplant. After the transplant, it will be certain that we will not have anymore. But that's jumping too far ahead.

 Right now I know this: Jake starts chemotherapy today. He will be in the hospital for the next month, with the goal of putting the leukemia into remission. At that point, he'll likely go through another phase of treatment once or twice, preparing his body for the transplant. The transplant requires another 6 weeks of hospitalization. The risks of the transplant are scary, but if everything goes well, in 6 years we will be able to say he is cured.

 I'm incredibly heartbroken over his diagnosis. Honestly, if anything happened to him I'd be lost. I'm confident, however, that he has what it takes to beat this thing, and I'll be standing behind him the whole way. And even more than that, I know he has an army of some of the most amazing people I've ever met cheering him on the whole way. We are so incredibly blessed by the amount of love and support we have received over the past couple of days. I don't know what I would do without it.

 Jake: You made a promise to me right before we headed out to the hospital. You promised me that you were coming home. I look forward to having you back here, because even watching our shows is incredibly lonely without you. I love you so incredibly much. I know that we have so much more to experience together, and I'm excited to get started living our life again. This is but a temporary delay. I promised to be there in sickness or in health. I never anticipated sickness would be this, but I'm not backing down. In the meantime, I look forward to our romantic strolls around the hall in your Bane mask. ;) ILY FOREVER! NEVER GIVE UP!!!