Recently, Corinne asked me if I was going to keep writing this book until she died. I told her that wouldn’t be possible because I did not intend to outlive any more wives. (I didn’t intend to outlive the first one.) I told her that I would finish writing the book by the time she finished her radiation treatments. And I did (if you include the aftermath).

Corinne is the heroine of this story. As she is the heroine in my life today. I have loved caring for her during this terrible time of cancer treatment. I have considered myself lucky to be able to spend every day with her.

Corinne has been remarkably human during this time. In turns, she has been scared and hurt and angry and sad about the cancer. She’s also been delightfully happy and loving, but not about the cancer. I’ve experienced those emotions as well. Through all we’ve experienced, Corinne has maintained a steady base: she has been admirably practical and astonishingly brave. I’ve tried my best to follow her lead on this.

As the months have passed, we both wear thinner and thinner. Facing unknown prospects on all of the fronts of our life is increasingly scary. I’ve learned that, most of the time when I see Corinne’s anger, she’s really afraid or hurt and trying to cover those emotions with something more active. She can’t stand the idea of being a victim. I wonder if she’s learned that most of the time when I withdraw from her (as I am in writing this book), I’m trying to do the same thing.