• By BOB ANDERSON
• Advocate columnist
• Published: Mar 23, 2007

• Print
• Email
• Save
• Reprints
• Twitter
• Share

• Del.icio.us
• Digg
• Facebook
• Reddit
• 

Laurie finally sleeps as a faint glow outside promises the end of a long night.

She’ll be too weak to write her column today. I can only pray that she’ll write more.

This cycle has repeated itself many times, but when my wife slips into the depths of illness it’s hard to know she’ll pull out. I marvel at her tenacity. Laurie has a will to live that grinds her through nights like the one we’ve just experienced.

Sarah and I have taken turns at her bedside, each spelling the other for a few hours of sleep. There’s nobody to spell Laurie. Our children or I would gladly switch places with her for a while. Laurie deserves a respite. I’d love for her to be in my healthy body for a while. She’d probably dash into the yard to make sure I hadn’t neglected any of her plants.

But Laurie lives in a body that has turned against itself. It produces malignant cells that pervert the way our magical organs usually perform. As Sarah and I sit beside her, we don’t take our own healthy bodies for granted the way we have most of our lives. A properly working body should be a constant joy.

Somehow Laurie has continued to recover from nights like the one now fading. It’s more than just a stubborn fight against cancer. She has recovered for the good days. She has recovered in spite of the fact that she knew there would be more bad nights. Her recoveries are a testament to a belief that good outweighs bad.

People who have seen her toughest times wonder how she hasn’t given up. A month ago her doctor told her she wouldn’t last two weeks without her will to live. She didn’t choose to die, and she’s enjoyed special days as a result.

On a good day, when Laurie smiles and the sunlight sparkles in her blue eyes, it’s easy for me to forget for a moment that she is dying. I see the beautiful young woman with whom I skipped stones 30 years ago.

On a good day, I’d swear that her 90-pound body will sustain her. On those days I’d tell her medical team to their faces that they are wrong in their prognosis.

On a good day, I love to watch Laurie with our kids. She couldn’t hide her pride and love for them if she tried. She’s never tried. That display of affection and approval is part of what makes her an exceptional mother. Those qualities, along with her warmth, intelligence and slowness to anger also make her a wonderful wife.

A desire to maintain our family relationships has helped to keep her going through nights like the one just ended. It makes me feel sorry for people who don’t appreciate their families or their healthy bodies.

As Sarah putters about the house reluctantly preparing for a flight back to Chicago, I know how difficult it will be for Laurie to say “goodbye.”

As I watch Laurie’s face relax in sleep, I realize she is blessed with another attribute that has helped her recover from the hard nights. She is curious. Tomorrow will bring something new. The new thing might be something most people would ignore. It could be as simple as spring’s first purple iris, an early hummingbird at her window, or a bit of happy news from one of the kids. Whatever it is, she will take an almost childlike joy in it. Continuing to anticipate and appreciate those good things keeps her strong spirit alive inside a weak body.