When my husband, Griffin, was diagnosed with cancer after eleven years of marriage, our entire life changed overnight.
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He had to stop working during treatment
He had to stop working during treatment, and with medical bills piling up faster than either of us could track, I started picking up extra night shifts at the hospital where I already worked as a phlebotomist, just to keep us financially afloat. Most mornings, I’d come home completely exhausted, sleep for a few hours, then drive Griffin to whatever appointment was scheduled that day, prepare his meals, organize his growing collection of medications, and sit beside him on the days he was too weak to manage getting out of bed on his own.
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The doctors were honest with us from the beginning that his odds weren’t as strong as we’d hoped, given how the cancer had already progressed by the time it was caught. Neither of us was ready to accept that as any kind of final answer, though. Even on the worst days, we kept believing, somehow, he’d find his way through it.
