I don’t even know how to start this one. A few weeks ago I forced Olivier to go to the doctor over a recurring stomach pain which he consistently dismissed and I consistently told him not to ignore. He finally heard me and, unfortunately for me, what should have called for a victory lap is now more of a panic room situation.
We don’t know for sure yet, but what we do know is that he has a huge ass mass of “something” somewhere in his intestines. I know I shouldn’t trust Doctor Google because every time I’ve looked up symptoms in the past, it’s somehow always cancer and I should have died already. But this time it might be right. I’m freaking out.
We have some tests pending over the next couple of weeks and then we will know for sure, but it’s not looking very positive at this point. I’m ready for that diagnosis, but what’s really eating me alive is a much more important question: How advanced is it? A nice cm-wide mass is humongous. If by any chance it has spread, the survival rate drops drastically. I’m not ready to live a life without him… It’s not even that I’m not ready, I literally can’t.
We’ve only spent ten years together, we ought to have at least another 40. I know I’ve racked up some awful karma over the years, but Olivier is the purest person I’ve ever known. Whatever is happening to him should be happening to me instead.
I’m trying to remain positive. He will be fine because he has to be. All this time together hasn’t been enough. I’m not ready to let go.
