I call my friend Catherine to cancel my tea time with her tomorrow morning. I want to say: “Catherine, how is this happening to us, to Suleika?” And instead I say this and I say that, I ask about her son and her husband. It makes me feel better and wounded at the same time, because what I have to tell is about transfusions and fatigue and reality. The tears are in my heart but they never come out. Only when Suleika doesn’t speak to me do I lose all strength. Communication, love, laughter, her presence—that’s what makes this bearable, what allows us to keep going like Ulysses.
i cried
