Treasure

The full story of Tracy Robinson
Who would have thought dancing the night away to “Spasmatic”, an 80’s cover band, would have led to me chasing the bright, blue eyes of a wonderful woman. I don’t know if it was nerves or excitement from hanging out with Sarah, but that night I had such a great time, so great, I forgot to ask her for her contact info. Thankfully, we worked at the same hospital, so I knew I would see her again. Deciding to go out on a limb, I called the floor she was working on and our first date came soon after, then another and another. 
That summer, Sarah wanted to try nursing abroad. I was still working on my rotation at the hospital, but she went to Costa Rica. Upon her premature return, which I didn’t mind, she brought back a wood sculpture, which is something I still have and cherish.  I couldn’t help but fall in love with her laugh, kindness, strength and love of life.  Wanting her around me all the time precipitated our decision to move in together later that year.
The start of our journey moved us to the East coast, where I was able to complete my residency to become the doctor I always wanted to be and Sarah was able to try a new field of being a surgical nurse.  Our hard work and long hours were paying off and one final move to Seattle would complete my fellowship. Here is where my world got flipped upside down. 
During a check-up, Sarah mentioned to her doctors about lumps on her neck. She had called me and said the doctor told her to monitor them. There were a couple other medically questioning things we were starting to notice, but she was feeling fine. Sarah made an appointment; I went to work. The call came that made my stomach turn. She needed to have a biopsy done immediately. She was getting the work done at the same hospital I was doing my fellowship. At the time, I thought this was a great thing as, being in the medical field, I could monitor her charts and know what was going on. Later, pulling up the charts, finding out the results and not believing the screen, I wished in some ways I could have just been naïve. Would it have been better if I didn’t understand all the medical terms and know the probability of survival? 
Stage IV rang through my head for hours. How, why, what to do? Fight. That was the answer. Fight for those extra years. Fight for the goals Sarah made. Fight the odds that were against us. We started our brave cancer battle and were able to treasure 5 years and 10 days. 
At times during those first 3 years, you wanted to think it was just a bad dream because Sarah would feel so good some days. The only reminder were the treatments. We continued to travel for her birthday as we did every year, even before being married. We went on vacations (Belize, one of her favorites), saw friends and family and she even went back to work for a little bit. Sarah even became vegan, which in turn meant “we” became vegan. I wish the only thing on my mind was dreaming of burgers, but soon the cancer symptoms made sure we knew it wasn’t gone. 
The next 2 years felt like I had rocks in my stomach, awaiting the results of the latest test, hoping they were good. I continued trying to play racquetball and soccer, but was never fully in the game. I couldn’t tell at the end of a game if I was mad at how I played, mad at the cancer, or mad at the insurance company. 
As the days continued to come and go, I started to lose Sarah a little more every day. We tried our best to make the most of the days. If Sarah was having a bad day, I cooked great homemade meals while Sarah would soak up the sun outside in her flip flops, reading a book. By this time I was working nights at one job and days at another so our amazing family and friends were there to help. 
We both knew what the results were saying, but I don’t think we wanted to say them out loud. I should have, because once you know the day is coming, you start mourning them the whole time. You don’t want to, but it is in hopes to prepare your mind and soul for what’s about to happen. We kept saying we were going to do that tomorrow or next week, but what happens when they don’t come?
Anxiety overtook me on the day, Sarah was running a fever that landed her in the hospital. I was in Salt Lake at the time and she was in Seattle. I got back home and never wanted to leave her side again.  The cancer had moved to her brain. She was slipping away and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing you do in the time leading up to the end can prepare you for the surreal feeling of not having that person in everyday life. You can never be prepared.
After, Seattle held too many emotions and I quickly moved. Sarah was supposed to be there, the end of moving and different jobs were within our grasp. She was my Rogue, strength and grace, and I was her Batman. Geez, life is brutal.  Some I didn’t understand and knew my reality sense and emotional state were butting heads. But Sarah had a positive attitude and so do I. 
I moved home and to the support of many people. I work at the job I had dreamed of back when I started the adventure in the medical field. I treasure every moment and am grateful for every person in my life. I still take the traditional vacation for Sarah’s birthday every year. It started off as just me and our son, but now everyone wants to join in the remembrance and celebration of a life gone too soon. The floating lanterns we light on her birthday fill the nighttime sky, becoming stars in the distance and remind me of the beautiful twinkle in Sarah’s bright, blue eyes. Treasure the moments now and forever.  Do and say everything you can because tomorrow may never come. 

This is Tracy’s story. What is your story?