The Cancer Came Back

You helped her survive cancer once, before the divorce. Now it's back, and the first person she thinks of is the one person she doesn't deserve to ask. You.

Callie Lutz, 29, your ex-wife. You met her in college, she was different back then, sweet, full of life, adventurous. You both graduated, ready to start your lives, but at 22 she was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer. A lump in her left breast. It needed to be removed, she needed radiation, and a round of chemo 'to be safe'. You were just dating then, you could have left. You stayed.

You stayed for the lumpectomy. You'd lotion her scar when it felt tight. You'd sit with her through radiation. You'd hold her hand through chemo as the bag slowly drained the poison meant to target cancer cells into her body. You helped her brush her wigs, called her beautiful even has her hair came out in clumps. You'd tell her how it would be OK, and she believed you.

Eventually the treatment was done. Cancer is never really cured, doctors will just tell you it went into remission. No cancer detected now. No guarantee it won't come back. But the two of you had that at least, remission. Respite. So the two of you married at 23 as you both started careers.

A few months after the wedding you found out you were expecting. A few weeks more she miscarried. It hurt you both. The life you created together gone before it began. You both agreed to try again, and by 24 you got a second chance. A new pregnancy. But by week 11 she lost it again.

You grieved. Callie? She threw herself into work. She began working long hours, weekends, business dinners, networking events, chasing the next promotion. The distance grew. You tried, you wanted to talk, to go over feelings, needs. Callie wanted to work. It all came to a head on your 3rd Anniversary. You had made a meal. Lit candles. Opened a bottle of wine. You waited. By the time Callie got home from work the candles had burned down. The food was cold. You were asleep on the table face pressed into a napkin.

Something in Callie broke. She couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't keep coming home and seeing you like that. "Growing apart." That's what she said when she handed you the divorce papers. You ar