What to do?

The last few days have been tough for us. My last couple entries have been a little clinical, because I don't know what to do. I have read about a few people my age with Hormone Refractory Prostate Cancer and they have battled and continue to battle this disease with every weapon in the armory. I intend to do the same. I won't and can't give up. That doesn't mean I don't feel despair sometimes. Lately, I do. The hormone therapy was supposed to buy me some time, but now appears to have run its course. My wife and I attempt to comfort each other, but lately, we are not sure how to comfort each other. We are both trying to fight this in different ways. She feels helpless to stop this speeding train and does not want to be left alone. I am not sure how to comfort my soulmate who may end up pulled away from the one she loves. How do you tell her it will be okay, when at least for awhile, it is possible that it won't? How do you tell her to keep the faith that we have worked so hard as a family to cultivate when her heartfelt prayers go unanswered? How do you convince her that our small family needs her more than ever? How do you assuage her unfounded feelings of guilt that something could have been seen, a sign missed, that would have directed us down a path towards earlier discovery and healing? I suffer with advanced cancer that could end my life much earlier than I ever expected. My wife suffers with the possibility of losing the person that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, not just the rest of my life with. I want her to know, and maybe some of the other spouses of cancer to hear, that my heart breaks for her pain. I want her to understand that now is the time to build memories, no matter what the outcome of this is. We have the benefit of looking at life as a tangible, finite phenomenon. Something to be cherished and enjoyed. The most important things are not the things, but the experiences that build the memories. I keep this journal for her and my children. It is possible to fill their hearts and souls with meaningful memories, even in a shorter time. The quality of our time together has to be enough. Rest assured, I in no way, will be satisfied with quality. I want quantity, too. But I know that it is not guaranteed for me anymore. This has to be a collaborative effort. Neither of us can do this alone. Her faith in God fulfills the promise that we have made to each other and to God that our family will be sealed and will always be a unit, even beyond our time here. Her love for our family has to be sufficient to show our children that my love for them is eternal and will last even if my physical body cannot. Our children are a beautiful product of the love we have for each other and will always have for each other. If one of us doesn't get to stay and see it through, that will never change. Our Father in Heaven's love is forever, and we are made in his image. We have the advantage of hindsight in our treatment and diagnostic choices in this journey. The downside is that it is easy to reflect on choices made, and wish that you had chosen other paths. There is no benefit in that, other than to lend the experience to others to aid in their decisions. My wife feels responsible for some choices made. I have never questioned her love and devotion to me from the first time that she told me that she loved me. How can I even consider that any decisions that we made together or information that she presented to me were given with anything less than that same love and devotion? There are no second guesses here. You take the best information at the time that you need to make the decision, and you make the decision. I have no regrets. I love my wife and have complete confidence in her. She does not have an ulterior motive in her whole body. I trust her with everything that I am, everything I will be, and even what I may never have the opportunity to be. The best decision I ever made was made on June 22, 1996.