|Rob at the San Antonio Breast Cancer Convention|
Not that he isn't generally a kind compassionate person, but to stick with this s#*& show and display your true colors when the chips are down and your wife's unlucky lottery number was picked makes me feel pretty darn lucky to have married him.
The blog, What They Don't Tell You the Day Your Wife is Diagnosed with Cancer, will give you a glimpse into what these courageous men face daily. Parts were an eye opener for me and some were a bit disconcerting--you'll understand it when you read it--however, other paragraphs I was nodding my head in agreement.
"I can say with Confidence no man enters marriage with the thought of losing his wife. We are the ones that go too fast, take too many chances, drink too much, and test limits. We see ourselves being the ones laying down at the end of life, hoping to leave security for our loved ones. In one moment in an office words are spoken and at that moment your life has changed forever. Let me repeat that. A Cancer diagnosis for your wife means life as you knew it or thought it would be has changed forever."
On a side note: Rob always reads my blogs and was quite embarrassed by my glowing accolades of his caregiving. He thought maybe I should mention his latest faux pas with Mother's Day. I reminded him that being absent that day due to fishing and a poorly assembled bouquet of flowers picked from the neighbor's garden does not diminish my love for him (Okay, maybe I was a bit miffed about the whole ordeal, however, I should remember white knights do occasionally slip off their horses--but they always seem to climb right back up and resume their charge).
Despite his forgetfulness of the big day he still deserves extra hugs and high fives for being a super duper hero--in spite of his lack of any flower arrangement abilities/Mother's Day priorities/breakfast in bed would have been nice, etc. etc. etc...(I'm over it, really I am).
Thanks for reading # 524 of 7777.