The author, Diane, and Al with their family.After my first HuffPost essay was published, I noticed that many other widows wrote some version of the same comment: “I spent years taking care of my husband. I loved him, and I’d do it all over again. But I don’t ever want to have to take care of another man.”
As I read those comments, I understood exactly what they meant.
I spent the last two years of my husband Al’s life caring for him as he battled terminal lung cancer. Caregiving is one of the greatest acts of love you’ll ever perform, but let’s be honest – it’s also exhausting. You become a nurse, advocate, chauffeur, medication manager, cheerleader and, at times, the only person holding everything together while your own heart quietly fall...
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