Today is #GBMDay Glioblastoma Awareness Day. I was encouraged to share my story as a caregiver to the National Brain Tumor Society; I am sharing it here too. I am a lucky caregiver. My husband's tumor was operable and didn't affect major body or motor functions. The tumor, however, did change my husband's personality and abilities to navigate life independently. When I look at George physically, it is still my husband. Though, when I stare into his eyes it is a different version of him I now see. I don't have anger. I never say "why me" or "why us?” Neither does he. I sometimes lose my patience and and must remember what he's dealing with. As much empathy as I have, I can't truly understand how he must be feeling physically and emotionally. The hardest thing is to see someone who has so much will to live get frustrated, confused and exhausted by a simple task, like making the bed. I cry everyday usually in the locked bathroom. I cry because I wish there was more that I could do, more that I can say. I cry from the never-ending to-do list I must accomplish and I feel like I’m just getting by. I cry from gratitude - we are so blessed and have an outpouring of love. I worry I’m not doing enough. I hope I’m making the right decisions for his care. I try to be fully present in every situation but I can’t be. If I’m at work, I’m worrying about him at home. If I’m with friends , my mind is occupied (did I request a refill on the meds? did I submit the paperwork to insurance? Did I respond to that client email?)—and I can’t fully be engaged in what they are saying. I feel alone, even though I’m not alone. I have faith the universe gives me what I can handle and maybe I am handling it ok. I know we will be ok. His strength gives me strength. I wish that George’s tumor could have been found earlier. My wish and hope for anyone else that will have the unfortunate bad genetic luck to develop a glioblastoma, or any other type of brain tumor, is that they will receive earlier detection (continued in comments below)....