Washcloth uselessly in hand, I turn to my husband, who waits patiently. I don’t want to need help. Yet I am humbled by the intimacy of this moment, by my husband’s tenderness.
When cancer smells like love
Washcloth uselessly in hand, I turn to my husband, who waits patiently. I don’t want to need help. Yet I am humbled by the intimacy of this moment, by my husband’s tenderness.