Married to a Turtle

The tough part of being a cancer patients wife is the constant need to be a cheerleader when all you really want to do is breakdown and cry.  The tears do come out but only in private moments and even sometimes out of no where.  The thoughts that go through my head daily are often so random, but often so sad and depressing.  As my husband takes his treatments I am forced to see my Superman become a shell of a man.  He is here, he is alive but it is not really him.  It is not the man that I married or feel in love with.  He is hidden deep inside this shell of a man that takes up residence in our home.  I miss my Superman.  I miss the man that didn't want to sit still, the man that took me places, the man that wanted so much, the man that cooked (never cleaned let's not get crazy), the man that looked at me with loving eyes that were full of life and hope.  So many times recently I have heard the man in shell speak of giving up on these treatments and giving up on the added possibility that this STUPID cancer will go away and stay away.  The man in the shell is afraid.  The man in the shell is not a fighter.  The man in the shell wants nothing to do with this current situation.
I need to break this shell and rescue my Superman that is hidden deep inside.