“Why Don’t I Count?” The Toxic Hauntings from My Wife’s Terminal Illness
And how awareness can lead to soul-making
By the time my wife was very sick with the second round of cancer, I had been sacrificing most of my married life. She was a beautiful woman and we had many beautiful times. I loved her dearly. But I had also been sacrificing and fighting for her for years. Several suicide attempts, several disappearances, and many, many bouts of panic attacks and depressive episodes had led her to expect that she could do or get any treatment she wanted no matter the price. Then came the first bout of cancer. More sacrifice. Whatever she wanted, she claimed it would be her healing. I was just supposed to find the money to do it. And for the most part, I did. My consulting practice was very successful. I made all the money she needed until the business faltered—that is, until I couldn’t. We went bankrupt. We lost the house. We had to move. And still, I kept sacrificing. And then the cancer came back and I was expected to go to every single appointment with every doctor, naturopath, chiropractor, or other promising healer she could find. Everything in our life was all about her, her needs, and her illness.
Meanwhile, my soul was screaming! Why don’t I count?
The terrible answer is: because we don’t. The culture, most women, and most men expect this kind of commitment from men. We are to sacrifice ourselves for our dying woman. It is how you are supposed to act. It is your responsibility. It is what you are supposed to do when your lady is ill. It is, as we hear over and over again, “the right thing to do.” Maybe it is. As a man, your reality as a human being is expected to take a back seat. Your sadness, your grief, your fear, your sense of self, your sense of violation, all of it. It takes the back seat because you are not sick, she is. You are not dying, she is. There is no support for you, and that’s how it is. These are the damaging effects of patriarchal values on men suffering their wife’s demise. Sacrifice and do the right thing. It’s terrible, but we can heal it.
Note: This is my troll gate. The rest of this article is only available for paid subscribers.