It's been a brutal year for bodies everywhere. For my partner, the brutality has been related to the ongoing ways in which bile duct cancer survival becomes compounded by new complications, new challenges, new crises.
"I'll pray for his complete recovery and healing" is spoken to me with good intention but I am left speechless when such words come at me because there is no such thing as complete recovery and healing from this. There is love and support and awareness and care that can be given so that extended survival can be had with as much joy, intelligence and dignity as possible.
Other words also leave me speechless. And I've learned how to preemptively silence them when I feel them coming my way by explaining to the almost offender that it is my honor. It is my privilege to be his life partner and that I get to help maximize his day-to-day hope and dignity as we take it one day at a time and manage all interventions. It is a role that gives me profound purpose.
As I relish in the purpose of supporting the survival of someone else's body, I find a depth of purpose as I continue caring for mine. Every morning I wake up and exercise (as I have been doing for the last couple of decades) either by myself or with my boxing coaches (Tee and Corey) or my strength/nutrition coach, Victor, who reminds me that the body doesn't care how it looks. It cares about surviving. My ego appreciates that the byproduct of how well I nourish my body with clean foods and how well I train it to be strong is that it ends up looking great.
I like that. Leading with a pursuit of survival and allowing my ego to enjoy the byproducts of that main pursuit.