We think we have so much time in the beginning and besides, we’re so thrown off course by the diagnosis, saying the right things, and having the tough conversations aren’t even a consideration.
Then there’s the planning of what comes next. Will there be surgery, will there be chemo therapy, how will that fit into the days that used to be filled with “stuff?”
And the time slips away. Before we know it, it’s been weeks, then months, and all of sudden you’re celebrating surviving cancer a year out or more. Maybe the doctors were wrong, maybe there will be more time than they thought. And the conversations are put off again because time seems to be on our side.
Try to imagine Cancer in an hour glass. When the sand starts to slide through the narrow opening, there’s so much of it. There’s so much time in the top of the glass. We hardly feel the pressure to talk about lives shared as kids growing up, or as sons and daughters or as soul mates.
We just do what we have to do to give that life another day.
Until something changes….cancer makes a move and we’re caught off guard. The clock stops. The calendar ends. The life is gone.
Who forgot to turnover the hour glass? We need more time.