Something can be your worst nightmare—the scariest thing you can ever imagine—until you’re actually going through it, and then something else has to take its place.

For the past several months, my husband and I have been dealing with the possibility of our worst nightmare. Up until last week, that’s all it was; a possibility. Then, last Friday, it became a reality. We suddenly found ourselves having to reevaluate.

I didn’t take it so well myself. I usually pride myself on having a tough exterior, backed up by a fairly sturdy interior. I can usually remain calm in tough situations instead of losing it. But when we got the call that the tumor removed from Sean’s thyroid was in fact cancer—the big “C”—all that composure went out the window.

I wasn’t prepared. My optimism had once again gotten the better of me and left me exposed to hard truths. I’d had doubts, sure, but I hadn’t allowed myself to entertain them for very long. Whenever a dark thought crept into my mind—“What if he does have cancer?” or “What will this mean for us?”—I pushed it away and went back to believing everything would be fine.

So I was stunned when we learned that everything wasn’t fine after all. I was at the lake when he called to tell me, and I had a hard time believing what I was hearing. “They found cancer,” he said. “Can you come home?”

I almost didn’t want to go home to face it all, but of course, I did. I couldn’t tell you all the thoughts running through my mind during that 10-minute walk home if I tried. Suffice it to say my disbelief faded to fear, and then to anger, and then to incredible sadness. I couldn’t believe this was happening to us. I kept thinking, “Can’t we have a dull moment?” I kept wishing life would just leave us alone.
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I sat on the couch trying to hold back tears while he called different friends and family to calmly tell them the news. I knew when they asked about me, because I’d hear him say things like, “She’s fine, it’s just a shock,” or “She’s okay,” and move on.

I wanted to correct him. I wanted to scream that I wasn't okay, not by any definition. But I couldn’t do that. This wasn’t about me. I wasn’t the one with the diagnosis. I wasn’t the one facing a second surgery, or “standard thyroid cancer treatment.” I wasn’t the one who had to go to sleep at night wondering what it’d be like to have a seemingly vital organ removed from my body. Or whether the cancer had spread before we’d had time to take it out. I wasn’t the one wondering what the future held.

Except that I was. Because when you love someone, you can’t help but assume their fears as your own. I wasn’t the one with a malignant tumor, no, but I might as well have been. The key difference was that I didn’t just hope for the best, I allowed myself to assume it, while he assumed the worst. And assuming the worst has a funny way of preparing you for it.

We’ve had a week to process the news, and I feel better about things. Once you’re actually living your worst nightmare, it loses some of its power to scare you. The fear is still there, but it’s not fear of the unknown like it used to be. It becomes more familiar somehow. Because now we know: This is what it’s like to have cancer. And once you’re in that place, you can finally find a way back to hope. And there’s a lot to be hopeful about in our particular situation.

We’ve been through some pretty big challenges in the past few years. We’re still waiting for that dull moment. But one thing we can agree on about this string of horrible experiences is how much they’ve changed us. And we can admit to each other that we probably wouldn’t be who we are, wouldn’t be where we are or doing what we’re doing, if we hadn’t gone through them. Even though we wouldn’t wish these experiences on anyone, and we’d take them back entirely if we could, they’ve molded us into stronger people. They’ve shown us that we have the strength to keep going, no matter what life throws at us.

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