In the mornings I drop my son off at school and then head to work. I am done at work by 2:00 P. M. and can head home.
I don't live in the city, I don't work in a high-risk environment, and I am not a smoker. So it was never anything that would occur to me that I would get lung cancer, but the more I have learned about lung cancer is that it is becoming much more random, and it is striking women who are under 50 and are non-smokers and not in a risk environment.
There's not a lot of creativity when you're dealing with a disability, there's not a lot of freedom and spontaneity.
I made a vow to Chris when we married that I'd love him and I'd be with him in sickness and in health and I did OK with that.
Life is full of risks, and you don't want to raise someone who's afraid of taking risks, either physically or emotionally.
Chris, boy, was he ever resilient, and was he ever someone who would never give up and had tremendous discipline, and he set goals and met them.
Christopher believed that to overcome any adversity, no matter how challenging, you need to go forward each day with strength, determination and compassion.
Chris had the unique and rare opportunity to be shown during his lifetime how many friends he has and how much they care.
Sacrifice always seems to imply a bitterness attached to it. But I don't feel bitter about the choices I've made. Yes, I sacrifice a job because I made certain family decisions, but I don't regret it.
As a caregiver, I always thought I had empathy for Chris's situation, and certainly one family member's disability affects the whole family dynamic in myriad ways. But as I go through various tests and discomforts and uncertainty about the future that cancer can bring, I feel a strong, visceral connection to what Chris went through.
Superman is a traditional archetype in our culture, this all-powerful but benign doer of good, protector and friend. If he could succumb to the frailties of mortal man, what's to become of the rest of us?