When I told Jessica, her initial reaction seemed genuine. shock, tears, offers to help in any way needed. But as weeks passed and Michael started aggressive treatment, Jessica became increasingly scarce. There were always reasons: work deadlines, family obligations, her own health issues. I promise I will visit this weekend, she would text, only to cancel at the last minute.

Meanwhile, Michael fought his battle with incredible courage. The radiation made him violently ill. The chemotherapy took his hair and 20 lbs from his already lean frame. I took family medical leave, draining our savings to be by his side every day. I learned to administer medications, manage his diet when he could eat, clean up when he could not keep anything down. I became his advocate, researcher, nurse, and still tried to be his wife rather than just his caregiver.

Through it all, my family remained distant. I sent regular updates that received brief acknowledgements. Rachel never visited once. My parents came by for 30 minutes after much insistence, stood awkwardly in our living room, and left with visible relief. Jessica made it to the hospital twice. Both times staying less than an hour, visibly uncomfortable around the medical equipment and Michael’s deteriorating condition.