In 2019, I had a recurrence of cancer, so I was going through three months of radiation treatment. My wife, Steph, and I needed to run a few errands in Austin before getting back to Houston for my treatment appointment later in the day. We had plenty of time.

But when we got in the car to leave, it wouldn't start. The battery was dead. I put the car in neutral and pushed it out so I could use my tractor to jump start the car. So, I pulled my tractor up next to the car to jump it. It was a great idea except the tractor battery wasn't strong enough to jump the car. We had to wait what seemed like an eternity for the car to finally build up enough charge. The engine turned over and we could finally leave.

Now, we no longer had any margin to accomplish our agenda. We would have to drive straight through to M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, and even then, we'd barely make it on time. With prostate cancer, one of the things many people don't know is that I had to arrive at my treatment appointment with a full bladder. That meant I couldn't stop and use the restroom.

By the time we got to the parking garage at the radiation center, my bladder was so full I thought it would burst. Walking awkwardly and as fast as I could, I barreled through the lobby, restroom in sight. Tragically the dam burst before I was halfway there and once it started, there was nothing I could do to stop the flood. The only hope for saving my dignity was to enter the restroom before anyone noticed the rising water level in the lobby. And that's exactly what happened. The relief I felt from not being seen as well the release, oh that pressure I had been experiencing in my lower extremities was euphoric until it dawned on me that venturing beyond my safe place there in the restroom, wearing wet clothes, would expose me as the culprit. Thankfully, I discovered a "In Case of an Emergency Press Here" sign.

It wasn't long before a dry pair of scrubs and a plastic bag were dropped off and I was able to head to the radiology department for my scheduled treatment. When I came out in scrubs, carrying a bag of wet clothes, Steph said, "Why are you wearing scrubs?"

I said, "Well, let's just say, this day is not going well." We drove to where we were staying for the night. When we got out of the car to greet our friends, the doors magically locked with the car still running with the dog and the key fob still inside.

We called our roadside insurance company, AAA. We bought a new battery so we could get back home without any more drama the next day. Turns out, the tractor had the last laugh because when we got home, the tractor was still in the driveway, engine running!

Looking back now, I can laugh at this particularly horrible day, but it didn't seem so funny at the time. But this is the point I want to make today. Right now, you are in a horrible time, but there will be aspects to your days that are not horrible.

Someday, believe it or not, you'll look back and laugh at it — eventually. I actually had a couple tell me it was a two-year anniversary of their discovery day. They replayed that day — literally – she had the conversation recorded. Some of you are cringing, but this couple told me they listened to the conversation from two years prior. I asked, "How did that go?"

He said, "Well, at first, I started spinning off in shame about my horrible behavior, and we had to stop listening. But I came back in two days and said, 'You know, I'm really curious. Let's listen again.'" The couple listened again and said they laughed and laughed about it. They said it all sounded crazy.

In the midst of the pain, I know that it's impossible to laugh, but I think if anything I want to give you today, it's hope. Laughter will come back. You can heal. You can each heal separately. You can even heal together. You will feel whole again. You'll be grateful you're not there anymore!

I'm Rick Reynolds with Affair Recovery.

To healing.