I’m more in love with my husband now than I ever was before. I probably didn’t know or understand just what love really was until the oncologists told me that I might not have it. I was a stupid girl living in a make-believe world, full of romance novel misunderstandings and real world consequences.

Along with being in love with my husband, I find that my attraction to him has grown to gargantuan proportions. He smiles and I see his rakish charm. He laughs and I feel that tingle somewhere deep inside. He reaches out to caress my skin or hold my face in his hands and I am taken to a place most women only dream of being with their husbands.

I know that I’m one of the lucky ones. My husband is faithful and he is strong. My husband is gentle and sweet. He is everything I waited to find. Is it any wonder that being near him, being loved by him, makes me yearn for his touch?

Sometimes we just can’t. The day has been too long and the pain is just too much. The desire is there but the energy is not. On those nights we snuggle close, skin on skin, buried beneath the comforter in our perfectly sized bed. We talk and we laugh most days. Other days, we cry. With our arms wrapped tightly and our toes tangled ever so slightly.

Then there are the times that we can’t get enough. A look across the room, a smile or a wink is all it takes to urge us on. In our bedroom, the living room, or maybe in the shower as the water begins to turn cold. The where or the why doesn’t matter as much as the when, as much as the fact that right then we need to be one, without a thought to anything other than one another.

Cancer is cruelest to those who need their families and to those in love. Who will be there to hold the hand of the man who stole my heart? Who will be there to fix his dinner, to remember his birthday, or make sweet passionate oral love to him at the end of a long work day? I can’t help but cry when it plays out in my mind.

Who will hold him close and cherish him the way I do? Who will see through his bark and beyond his bite to know that he’s hurting and in need of a hug? That’s my job, that’s what I’m here for. Cancer doesn’t listen when I scream and cry, when I try to make it understand that I’m not finished yet.

By now I know that the best thing to do would be to let him go. I should encourage him to find someone now, to help make the transition easier. Instead, I’m more selfish than ever. I want him all to myself for as long as I have left. I want his hugs and kisses, his touches and his orgasms to be mine and mine alone.

I just want everything that is him to be wrapped up in everything that is us until the end of my time.

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