Looking Back: Cancer

My husband loves to bring up his cancer.
"I can't do [fill in the blank with something husband dislikes]. I have cancer!"
"You should feel bad for me. I have cancer."
He is mucho fun. Technically, he does not have cancer anymore, but milking the cancer excuse is one of his favorite hobbies, right behind playing indoor frisbee and trying to tickle me.
Back in October, one of my favorite sisters got married. (I have three favorite sisters. I also only have three sisters.) I was the best wedding planner ever. As I set up for the reception, my number one volunteer (read: husband) had to ditch me to go to an ENT appointment for his chronic earaches. I didn't think much of it except that I had to assemble a gross of Chinese lanterns by myself. Upon his return, he said that the doctor was more interested in his enlarged thyroid than in the earaches.
An ultrasound and biopsy came and painfully passed. I was super chill with the whole thing. "It's not cancer. Everyone I have talked to corroborates this." He, on the other hand, was feeling opposing opinions. "It's totally cancer. I have cancer. We will have to deal with cancer!"
November 2, I was sitting in an assembly listening to a couple of people singing about topics kids care about. I innocently texted my husband to enquire as to the results. I received a call in return.
A call does not mean something happy.
You wouldn't call someone, if they were a teacher, to announce something happy and exciting like, "I don't have cancer!" You'd just send a happy text. Four words. I don't have cancer. Even better? A thumbs up emoticon.
I knew, even before I answered, what the conversation would sound like.
Thirty minutes later, my principal sent my weepy self home. I watched a chick flick and sulked on the couch.
Cancer involved a thyroidectomy and radiation therapy a month later.
Radiation therapy involved living in separate shelters for several days and then sleeping in separate rooms for several weeks. It also involved us not "naturally" trying to have kids for 4-6 months.
Husband likes to throw the idea at me that if he did not have cancer, we may not have as aggressively sought answers for our infertility problems. He may be right, although I like to think we would have been in the same place at this time even without the cancer drama.