Joe, 53
When Jess playfully grabs my rear as she walks by, it’s as if she’s reaffirming my existence
I’ve always embraced my sexuality, and that remains just as true now, perhaps even more so. Navigating terminal cancer, the physical sensations I experience are typically distressing – filled with needles and incisions, examinations and tests, not to mention the toxins injected into my body – and eventually it’s easy to want to mentally disconnect. There have been moments over the last few years when I’ve felt more like a test subject than the individual I once knew, yet when Jess brushes my arm or playfully grabs my rear, it’s as if she’s reaffirming my existence, reminding me that touch can be appreciated, not merely tolerated.
Prior to my diagnosis, Jess and I regularly engaged in sexual activity more than once daily, and it could be understandable for her to feel resentful about how much that aspect of our relationship has shifted, but she’s never made me feel like I’ve disappointed her when my body doesn’t comply. We’ve both adjusted to me relying on feeding and drainage tubes, acclimating to my changing physique – becoming gaunt, then swollen, and then gaunt again – but her consistent affirmations of my attractiveness throughout this process have made it significantly easier to cope.
When I’m feeling up to it, we’ve actually explored more fun in our sexual connection than ever before – trying new things we hadn’t considered in nearly 13 years together, like incorporating various toys – and when intercourse isn’t feasible, Jess still discovers ways to bring me joy. Recently, I was too weak after a procedure to do much, yet she humorously suggested a sensual massage – complete with some playful shimmying – which not only made me laugh but also genuinely excited me.
There’s no remedy for the cancer I’m confronting, but intimacy with Jess serves as its own means of healing. We’re currently sleeping in separate rooms due to my nighttime spasms and hiccups, but just this morning I slid under her covers, and she massaged my thighs. Despite all the recent symptoms, side effects, and surgeries, a wave of desire for her surged within me. The time left for us together may be finite – perhaps just a few years, or even months – but Jess and I will always seek ways to physically honor one another, regardless of my bodily state. Cancer takes so much from you, yet it could never strip away the exhilaration I feel when she touches my skin.
Jess, 49
I always perceive him as my partner instead of a patient
Our sexual relationship – much like the rest of our lives – has been a whirlwind since Joe received his diagnosis, but neither of us can imagine giving it up entirely. There’s an intimate medical connection with your partner when you’re aiding them through cancer treatment, yet when I’m in bed with Joe, I always view him as my partner rather than a patient.
Before I met Joe in my late 30s, I never regarded myself as someone who enjoyed physical touch. I had a lot of fear surrounding sex, having witnessed abusive situations between my parents as I grew up. Despite being with my first husband since I was 15, I was never truly attracted to him. Deep down, I believed I might be asexual. Then Joe and I began the same writing course, and I felt this undeniable attraction towards him. Even the smell of his patchouli would captivate me from across the room. We delayed becoming intimate until after separating from our partners, but once we did, Joe sparked what I can only describe as my own sexual awakening. I can’t imagine lasting even 24 hours now without some form of contact with him.
At times, intimacy has become more complicated since his diagnosis, but my love for him drives me to adapt. We’ve always managed to find humor amid the challenges. I recall a particularly intense hospital workshop early on, where we both laughed at the need to use condoms to avoid me being exposed to his chemotherapy drugs – really, I’m nearly 50, and he’s had a vasectomy! One positive outcome of this whole situation is that it has compelled me to release my concerns about my own body; if Joe is willing to be close to me in such a vulnerable state, why should I worry about my stomach?
Being a caregiver and providing financial support can be draining, and there are days when sleep seems more critical than intimacy, or when I spiral into thoughts about how our lives might look in six months. But during those moments, I remind myself of what we have right now: today, each other, and the pleasure of touch. It’s an honor to help him discover joy in his body, just as he taught me to appreciate my own, for as long as I am capable of doing so.
