Life, death and NET cancer

My wife’s sister came over this morning to help me clean out Jane’s armoire and one of her closets. It was a physically and emotionally wrenching experience that served to remind me of both our past–and the future her NET cancer stole from us.

We were about 30 minutes into the armoire when I found the two sweatshirts. One had the Australian flag on it, the other the flag of New Zealand. Though she had never been to either, we both dreamed of going there after we retired.

…we are going to kill NET cancer…

Some day, perhaps, when I am done with fighting to help find a cure for NET cancer, I may take that trip. I’ll see the Sydney Opera House and the Great Barrier Reef. I’ll walk the mountains where the Lord of the Rings was filmed and do all the other things we talked about.

The needs of NET cancer research

But the way things are I can’t bring myself beyond the perhaps and the may. My time is not my own. What money I have is committed to this more serious quest. I cannot even bring myself to think about buying a car despite the 100,000-mile mark that is approaching too quickly on my Focus’ odometer. NET cancer needs the money more than I need a new—or even a used—car.

It is not a good feeling.

My current car runs. It gets me where I need to go. New wheels can wait. Australia and New Zealand can wait. Jane is gone and so many of our dreams are gone with her. I don’t think I could look at the things we wanted to see there and be happy in her absence. I feel cheated and angry and hurt.

NET cancer’s wergeld

After my sister-in-law left, I walked back into the room we had been working in. The armoire was empty and I had closed it earlier. But we had only gotten through about half of the closet. It was still open and I could smell Jane’s scent in the room. I put my head down against the clothes bar and howled for about 20 minutes.

I feel cheated and angry and hurt.

My mind went away as it has so many times these last two years. I feel better for a while afterward—but even though I am alone I feel embarrassed by it. I am, for that space of time, a three-year-old throwing a temper tantrum—a mindless creature caught in rapids that overwhelm everything. It is not a good feeling.

Dreaming NET cancer’s death

I took the things we had boxed and bagged to a local charity group. They will make sure they all get good homes with people who need them. There were sweaters and winter coats and scarves as well as blouses and pants and sweats. The new owners will not know the stories behind each one, nor how and why they have come to them. And that will be a good thing.

I may take that trip.

And some day, I will, if I am not too old and decrepit, fulfill our travel dreams. And that, too, will be a good thing.

But first we are going to kill NET cancer—and that will be the best thing of all.