A special guest post from Craig

Early on in our journey Craig wrote a blog post, which I refused to publish because it was too raw, too gut-wrenching and too exposing to the grief, terror and despair we were going through.  So when I put the request out to family and friends to write a blog post for cancer-versary he was hesitant to write another and there were plenty of friendly jibes about me not posting the first one.

But as I read his second post I realised that of all of us, the one most traumatised by the last year is not me.  It’s not KP.  It’s Craig.  For me the past year has been about taking care of one person, me.  Together, Craig, Myself and each one of you have helped to shield KP from the realities of a parent undergoing cancer treatment.  But the person on the front-line of all of this has been Craig.  Responsibilities once shared, were now his alone.  For him there was no escape.  No down-time.  Nowhere to hide.  That’s not to say he went it alone.  He had some amazing support too.  It’s just like lots of blokes he’s not that good with “feelings”; talking about them, acknowledging them, dealing with them.

When his first attempt at a blog post for cancer-versary mentioned nothing about the last year, anything about me, cancer or what anyone of us has been through I was at first angry, then dis-illusioned and then understanding dawned.  It suddenly became clear that the reason he wasn’t talking about the last year is because it’s still too much, too raw, too painful.

So this is Craig’s third attempt at a blog post for me and I think it accurately reflects the pain of the last year, how thankful we are for your support and our hope for the future.  A future we will share together, with our amazing son KP and all of you.

So one year ago today Trina had her surgery and life changed for our family.  Over the last year many people have said that we are so lucky to have found the cancer in time.  It always leaves me to wonder, lucky how? And in time for what? 

What luck is it,
that Trina had major surgery to remove her voice box,
that she now breathes though a permanent hole in her neck,
that Trina had to go through 30 sessions of radiation
that we have had to, and still are fighting with an insurance company over income protection during the toughest time in our lives, forcing us to borrow money to survive.
I don’t want this type of luck.

The luck I want is the luck that comes from,
Having some amazing friends to cook meals when they were needed
That people would and did collect KP from school
That you all queued up to take Trina to her radiation treatments
That someone privately stepped in and paid for most of the treatments

I prefer not to look back at what we have endured this last year, I don’t even like to think about it to be truthful.  I much prefer to focus on the present and what lies ahead.

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