The “C” word

My boyfriend came out of the doctor's office the other day and saw a man with no legs. A huge feeling of gratitude came over him as he realized how lucky he was.

"Wow, I really do have it good!" he realized. "That could be me."

I admire him so much for being able to see and feel this considering that, just nearly two weeks ago, he found out he has liver cancer.

Since then, he has amazed me with his optimism, perseverance, and strength. He said it has changed his whole perspective—for the better—and it has made both of us realize, once again, how precious life really is.

He's 51, and his first grandchild was born just two weeks ago, a little girl who he said takes away his pain every time he holds her.

As his girlfriend, I am concerned—as any person close in his life would be. So, in the middle of the night, I am surfing the Web for answers, research, resources and anything else I can get my eyes and mouse on, in hope for something, chasing after a ray of light to get rid of the thing I always heard and read too much about— the 'c' word: cancer.

"Hang on, baby girl," my boyfriend tells to me now. "I want you to be happy."

He doesn't realize he is the one who makes me happy even though I tell him all the time.

Nonetheless, I do find hope, good news, and—buoyed by prayers from friends and family—no matter what happens, I will remember the time that I was reminded again how precious and beautiful life is.