“When my husband was receiving cancer treatment in Mexico, he was in constant pain. Asked if he wanted to live, he said vehemently, “Yes! But I’ve got to get out of this pain!”
“I had been praying earnestly—as far-fetched as it sounds—to take some of his pain onto myself that maybe he could stand the remained of the pain until the tumor imploded. I wished for it fervently. I felt very tied to my husband, almost as if he and I were one being. Suddenly, I noticed something horrible inside me, burning and writhing all around my middle and right side. It roiled inside me—thin, searching tentacles coiling and twisting, probing for places to invade. It circled over and under, around and through, like a tangled mass of telephone wires from old ma Bell. It snaked inside my chest with a painful, ever-present vileness. With an emerging awareness, it occurred to me that this was Scott’s cancer! It wasn’t a sharp pain like a knife, and it wasn’t a dull pain like a hammer, but pain it was. It was anguish and pure torment made doubly so because it shouldn’t be there, and you couldn’t get rid of it. No matter how hard you twisted, contorted, or swiveled around, you couldn’t get it out of your body!
“As repulsive as it was, I wanted this anguish to stay and to remain at this horrible, excruciating level because I hoped it would help Scott—that maybe I could share his burden. After a time, though, the feeling slowly started dissipating. By the time it had ebbed away completely, I was awake. With profound disappointment, I realize I hadn’t taken any of his hurt at all—it had only been a dream. What an incredible dream, and what an amazing gift to me, to feel for just a moment something of the horror through which Scott was passing.”
Excerpt from Scott’s Choice Chapter 33 Page 293
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