by Susie Merz and Steve Richards
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Susie
As I look through the results of the MRI report, I tab back and forth to google the meaning of phrases like “neural foraminal narrowing” and find out what part of the body the “acetabulum” is exactly. I decipher what it means overall but feel the heaviness of technical medical terminology. For many of us with cancer, this is a common and anxiety provoking experience. In this case, though, it’s not my own MRI report that I’m scouring, it’s the one of someone I love.
What is it like to both live with cancer and to be in a relationship with someone who does as well?
In some ways it is freeing, this relationship that includes a shared understanding of what it is like to live with an incurable disease. Our unknowns will take different shapes, as we have different cancers, but we both know the experience of loss and change and uncertainty.
At times I find myself jumping ahead into Steve’s unknowns; when will the cancer progress further, and what will that mean? I forget momentarily about the almost 10 years of experience I have had living with the unknowns of my own diagnosis. In love, my heart feels less practiced, and vulnerable. I must learn anew to hold these fears with tenderness and compassion, for him and for myself.
Our time together is a patchwork quilt. The daily routine is stitched alongside plans for where we will go sailing this summer, and is bordered by Steve managing ongoing pain and my trips to BC Cancer for maintenance treatment. We watch movies and eat ice cream, and we make plans to tour hospices, for when that time comes.
Somehow it is a comfort, this weaving together of joy and grief. There is so much to be learned, and such fun to have, for Steve and me. My heart aches with it all, and I am deeply grateful, for his life, for mine, for ours.
Steve
For me, the thought of entering into a new relationship after having been diagnosed with advanced cancer was terrifying; it was truly the last thing on my mind. The fear of opening to intimacy and caring with the near certainty that my pending illness and death would cause even more heartache was unfathomable. And yet, with gentle (and not so gentle) encouragement from friends and family, I have come to realize what is true for any of us living with cancer. It is not the limits, the turmoil, nor the coming struggles that are important. It is how we choose to live and to love, despite what is to come, that holds the true promise for our lives.
I still worry. I worry about the destruction that my disease will wreak on all those who love me, including this new and beautiful love. I worry about my partner’s health and well-being, and about what might happen if our relative prognoses don’t pan out as expected. I worry about how I can best support Susie as I get more ill, or she does, or we both do. As for everyone on this journey, there are so many unknowns – we’ve just managed to multiply them!
At the same time, it is immensely comforting to be deeply understood, accepted, and loved just as I am, and with my cancer just as it is. It is hard to describe how much it means to have someone who understands exactly what I’m going through, in an unspoken and even at times unacknowledged way. No doubt there are countless caregivers who do exceedingly well at understanding and supporting their loved ones with cancer – but there is a warm, embracing security that comes from being in a loving relationship with someone who just ‘knows.’ I love that I can make the dark jokes with Susie that I wouldn’t dare with others. I love that we can plan, but not too far into the future, and understand why. I love that we can love, in the now, experiencing all the magical little things together, knowing that this love is what we have.
So, what is it like sharing both a loving relationship and a cancer diagnosis with someone? It is frightening and imperfect, and it is also comforting and easy. Given the alternative, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Susie Merz came to Callanish on retreat in 2015 after recovering from the diagnosis and treatment of multiple myeloma. She has been a counsellor for over 20 years and in 2016 was honoured to join the staff team to be in service at Callanish. She met Steve in August 2022 on a film project on his sailboat, and unfortunately, passed Covid on to him. After they both recovered, she offered to take him for a “I’m sorry I gave you Covid” lunch, and he instead offered to take her out sailing again. They spent a beautiful afternoon on the water, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Steve Richards first learned about Callanish shortly after he was diagnosed in 2020 with recurrence of an oropharyngeal cancer with metastases to the bones in his pelvis and spine. In 2021, he attended an amazing Callanish retreat. He met Susie when he had the opportunity to support a film project called “Caregivers in the Wild”, taking the cast and crew sailing for three days in the Gulf Islands. Steve spends much of his time these days exploring the amazing healing powers of sailing and love..