It’s hard to start in the middle, although some professionals will tell you to always start in the middle of a story. Only, this isn’t a story. It’s my life. And I flip flop on whether I chose it or just found myself here.

He’s in the hospital again. Second time in as many weeks. He has neuroendocrine carcinoma, high grade, poorly differentiated. Sounded like gibberish to me too when I first heard it. I still don’t know how to describe it to people. Mostly I just list the issues:

• Tumors in his spine, lung and pancreas
• Immunotherapy treatments every 3 weeks
• Radiation treatment
• Surgery
• Hospitalization
• Vomiting
• Crying
• Frustration
• Fear

Those last three are mostly mine. It’s hard being someone’s caregiver. And lonely. Because no two people diagnosed with this cancer is the same. It doesn’t have just one spot on the body that it clings to, it shows up differently for everyone. And it’s often misdiagnosed.

And now he’s in the hospital again. And I’m left feeling glad because maybe they can help him and scared because God, who wants their loved ones to be hospitalized?