When I was diagnosed with cancer, I thought my husband would be my rock. Instead, halfway through my chemo treatments, he announced he was going on a luxury cruise with his mother. He said she “needed him more than I did” because she had been saving for this trip for years. I sat there, bald from chemo, nauseous, and terrified, while he packed his bags.
I didn’t fight him. I was too weak. My sister moved in to help me through the worst of it. I tried to convince myself that maybe he’d come back with a clearer head, maybe he’d realize how cruel it was to abandon me.
But karma didn’t wait long. Two days into their trip, the cruise ship had a massive outbreak of food poisoning. My husband and his mom were both bedridden in their cabin, missing all the luxury dinners and excursions they bragged about. He texted me, complaining about how miserable he was, while I sat at home hooked up to an IV, shaking my head at the irony.
When he finally returned, he expected sympathy. Instead, he found his belongings packed neatly in boxes on the porch. My sister stood beside me as I told him I was done. He tried to argue, but I reminded him: “You left me when I needed you most. That’s all I’ll ever remember.”
Now, I’m focusing on recovery and surrounding myself with people who actually care. His mom still tries to call, but I don’t answer. The trip that was supposed to be their escape turned into their punishment. And for me, it was the moment I realized I deserved better than someone who runs when things get hard.
