After Breast Cancer, I Appreciate My Husband More Than Ever

It’s been 13 years since my first breast cancer and eight years since my second, and I have to say that as the years pass further away from those trying times, I have more mental and emotional space to love my husband. In a nutshell, the turmoil of cancer took up a great deal of head and heart space. Today in 2024, I adore my husband more than I ever have.

We met in 1994. My brother introduced us. He worked with Steve and thought we’d make a good pair. On our first date, we went to Applebee’s. He had trout, and I had a Caesar salad with chicken. It’s strange how we remember the little things over the years. Steve still has the crinkled paper receipt from the dinner we ate.

We dated for three years and then got married in 1997. Steve’s work took us to Rhode Island. Two years later, we moved back to Ohio, my home state. Flash forward to 2005: the year we adopted our son. The following six years were spent raising him from infancy to school age. Then, in 2011, my cancer struck.

The next 13 years would be full of doctors’ appointments, surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation and cancer drugs. It was a true learning experience. I figured out how to roll with the punches.

Now, in August 2024, I can breathe again. I am elated when my husband comes home from work. We eat dinner and talk about our day. He rarely has a bad thing to say. He’s a man who can truly leave work at work.

Recently, we hosted some old friends at an impromptu barbecue. Steve worked on getting the lawn and patio in shape for our company. I toiled in the kitchen and in the house, making food and cleaning. We were having barbecued chicken, pasta salad, baked beans and strawberry shortcake. We had wine and beer and sparkling water for drinks. I was so impressed by how he worked to make our place look beautiful. As I watched Steve mow the lawn and rake up the grass clippings, I fell in love with him all over again. He was a quiet man, but a very strong one (and could make a mean batch of barbecued chicken). He’d hung in there through my cancer years and stood by me when I thought I couldn’t go on. I remember one day after chemotherapy. I had bad mouth sores. We were in a coffee shop, and I was weeping. He held my hand and didn’t say much, but he was there in spirit. Those memories are the kind that make me love him even more.

I love him because he’s capable. He’s an engineer — a problem solver.

I love him because he’s funny. He has an amazing memory that connects events to other events, usually in a satirical fashion. I never expect the punchlines he comes up with.

I love him because he’s smart. Recently, he had to take an online graduate-level physics course for his work. He easily aced it.

I love him because he’s humble. He never shows off. He jokingly states, “You’re the main attraction. I’m just the side man.”

What can I say? I love him because he’s stuck by me through sickness and now through my healthy days.

And don’t get me started about his terrific fathering skills. He loves to bike ride with our son. On these rides they spend quality time in the outdoors, talking about life and love. My son is now 19 and is ready to fall in love, himself.

As a writer, I teach writing. I’ve taught people how to write for about 40 years. One of the assignments I give is a definition essay. Students are asked to define some abstract concepts. Some of them choose “love.”

“What is love?” they write.

Here’s how I’d answer that question.

Love is when you want to leave, but you stay.

Love is holding on for better days.

Love is not knowing what to say but coming up with something profoundly memorable that makes your partner smile, then laugh and then cry and then smile again.

(I never would have realized these things unless I suffered through cancer.)

Stephen, this is my love letter to you.

Thank you for everything. Let’s live the next 30 years healthy, wealthy and wise.

We deserve it.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to subscribe to CURE®’s newsletters here.