The Weight of the "Well-Spouse": Finding Light in the Shadow of Chronic Illness

I thought I knew what "in sickness and in health" looked like.

But talking to Ryan shifted something in me. We often focus on the person fighting the primary battle—in this case, his wife Cheryl and her recurring brain tumors—but we rarely talk about the person standing right next to them. The one holding the schedule, the one working the extra shifts, the one who has to be the "strong one" while their own heart is breaking in the quiet moments of a commute.

Ryan is a husband, a father, and an educator. He is also a caregiver. Hearing him talk about the "beauty and the burden" of his life was a masterclass in what it actually means to choose love when the world feels like it's crashing down around your ears.

A Love Story Written in the Stars (and the Marching Band)

Ryan and Cheryl’s story didn't start with a medical diagnosis; it started in a high school marching band in North Carolina. Though they were acquaintances back then, life took them on separate paths until they reconnected in 2017.

When they found each other again, things moved fast. By February 2018, they were talking marriage. Ryan describes Cheryl as "cut and dry" and "tough"—a woman who isn't afraid to speak her mind. He loved that about her. He knew she had a history with brain tumors (one at age 12 and another at age 15), but like so many of us do when we’re in love and looking toward the future, they viewed it as a thing of the past.

They built a life. They navigated the heartbreak of a miscarriage and the joy of welcoming their first son, Nathan, right as the world shut down in 2020. They moved back home, they grew their family, and they lived as if the shadow had moved on.

But in July 2024, everything changed. A sudden, sharp pain at the top of Cheryl’s head—something she described as feeling like she’d been "nailed"—signaled that the battle wasn't over. The tumor was back.

3 Things I Learned About Navigating Medical Trauma

Ryan’s perspective as the "well-spouse" offered so much wisdom on how to survive the unthinkable while keeping a household running.

1. Being a Caregiver is a "Beautiful Burden"

Ryan was incredibly brave in admitting that caregiving is, at times, a burden. It’s a word we’re afraid to use because it feels selfish, but Ryan’s honesty is a gift to anyone else feeling that exhaustion.

• The Financial Toll: Taking on extra work with local marching bands to provide supplemental income while wanting—desperately—to just be home.

• The Physical Toll: Managing a household with a newborn and a toddler while your partner is physically unable to lift them due to post-surgery restrictions.

• The Emotional Toll: Suppressing your own fear to be the "anchor" for the family.

2. You Have to Swallow Your Pride and Ask for Help

One of the most moving parts of Ryan’s story was his struggle to hit "post" on a Facebook message asking for support. He wanted to have it all under control. But he realized that he couldn't do it alone.

• Meal Trains: Something as simple as not having to plan dinner on a Tuesday can save your sanity.

• The Power of Community: Whether it was church members or family taking shifts to stay with Cheryl so Ryan could work, accepting help isn't a sign of weakness—it’s a survival strategy.

3. Medical Timelines are Rarely Like TV

We’re used to Grey’s Anatomy where a scan happens at 10:00 AM and surgery is at noon. In reality, Ryan and Cheryl lived through a grueling 66-day waiting period between diagnosis and surgery.

• The "Non-Urgent" Wait: Even when doctors say a surgery is "non-urgent," the mental weight of carrying that information for two months is agonizing.

• Conflicting Advice: Ryan opened up about the frustration of having an oncologist and a radiologist give completely different advice, leaving the family to navigate life-altering decisions about chemotherapy and radiation on their own.

The Expert Take: Resilience as a Choice

What strikes me most about Ryan is his definition of love. He told me, "Love is a choice, and I choose it freely." In the world of brand storytelling and marketing—my old life—we talk a lot about "consistency." But Ryan lives it. Resilience isn't a one-time heroic act; it’s the quiet decision to get up at 5:00 AM to get schoolwork done so you have a few moments of silence before the chaos of caregiving begins.

Ryan positions himself not as a victim of circumstance, but as a self-advocate for his family’s peace. By naming the burden, he actually makes it lighter. He shows us that you can be frustrated, exhausted, and overwhelmed—and still be a deeply loving, committed partner. Those things can exist at the same time.

The Period at the End of the Sentence

Today, Ryan and Cheryl are looking toward a new chapter. Cheryl is currently pregnant with their third child—a baby Ryan calls "the period at the end of a very long sentence."

Despite the medical hurdles, the "chemo pill" discussions that threatened their dreams of a larger family, and the looming scans, they are choosing joy. They are moving into 2025 with a sense of resolve.

If you are sitting in a hospital waiting room, or if you’re the one working the double shift to pay for treatments, or if you’re just tired of being the "strong one," listen to Ryan’s words: You are not alone. It isn't for nothing. You are doing the right thing, and there is light on the other side of the surgery.

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