The Love That Stayed: Being Loved Through Illness, Fear, and the Hardest Moments

This isn’t a love story. At least, not the kind with perfectly timed kisses, orchestral swells, and glittering happy endings.

This is a love story with hospital gowns, late-night sobbing, oncology appointments, and more scans than you want to count. This is about the kind of love that stays—even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

I’ve been on both sides of illness. I’ve held the hands of dying parents. I’ve brushed the hair back from my mother’s forehead during one of her strokes. I’ve stayed up counting the seconds between labored breaths and praying for peace—for them, and for me. I’ve learned what it means to give everything for someone else, without fanfare or reward.

But now, I’m learning what it means to be the one held. And that’s a different kind of hard.

My husband, Derek, has Stage 3 kidney cancer.

I say that not for pity—but for context. Because when someone you love gets cancer, your entire world shifts. You start measuring time differently. You see the preciousness in grocery trips and inside jokes. You find strength in places you didn’t know existed—and you also find fear.

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And yet… he chooses me. Still. Through the mess. Through the moments when I crumble under the weight of everything we’re carrying. Through the late-night panic spirals and the early morning “we’re going to be late for chemo” chaos.

He chooses me even when he is the one who’s sick. Even when he’s the one in pain. Even when he has every reason to focus only on himself.

And here’s the truth that people don’t always see: I’m not well either.

I carry the weight of my own health struggles. A brain injury that quietly affects my memory and processing. Chronic fatigue that doesn’t care how much I have left to do. Stress that lives in my body like it signed a lease. There are days I can’t find the words, can’t finish the thoughts, can’t be the version of myself I once was.

But Derek never treats me like I’m broken.

Even when his own body is betraying him, he asks me how I feel. Even when he’s in pain, he’ll stop to make sure I’ve had something to eat, or smile in a way that reminds me we’re still us. That’s the kind of love that feels like a lifeline. It’s not loud. It’s not performative. It just is.

That’s the kind of love that cracks you open and stitches you back together at the same time.

It’s not romantic in the traditional sense—but it is the most romantic thing I’ve ever known. Because being loved when you’re thriving is easy. Being loved when you’re at your worst—when you’re messy, scared, and running on fumes? That’s sacred.

🩺 For Anyone Reading This—Caregiver or Warrior:

If you are walking through illness right now—whether you’re the one fighting or the one standing beside someone who is—I see you.

I know what it’s like to whisper “I’m fine” when you’re anything but.

I know what it’s like to grieve things that haven’t happened yet.

And I know how terrifying it can be to let yourself be loved through all of it—to feel like a burden and still be chosen anyway.

But if you have that kind of love… hold onto it. Nurture it. Let it remind you that you are more than your fear. That you are still worthy of softness, even in your hardest moments.

And if you are that kind of love—if you’re the one showing up, carrying the bags, memorizing medication schedules, making jokes in waiting rooms—you are a kind of magic the world doesn’t thank nearly enough.

Sometimes people think the strong one is the caregiver. But the truth is, often we’re both broken and brave at the same time. Derek is fighting for his life. I’m fighting to hold it all together. And somehow—somehow—we’re still finding joy in between the chaos.

📚 More Resources:

If this post speaks to your current chapter, you may find comfort in these:

• Cancer Warrior Journal Bundle: A 4-in-1 emotional support system for patients and caregivers
• The ICU Diaries: A private look into what it means to wait, love, and survive when time stands still
• Self-Care Tips for Caregivers: Because you matter too.
• Voguegenics Self-Care Tracker

✨ Final Thought:

Love like this isn’t loud. It doesn’t demand attention. It doesn’t always have the right words.

But it stays.

And sometimes, that’s the only thing that keeps us going.

If you know someone walking through illness, fear, or exhaustion right now, share this with them. Not because it fixes anything—but because sometimes, it helps just to know we’re not alone.

You are not alone.

Have you ever been loved through illness? Or walked beside someone through theirs? Share your story in the comments. You never know who you might help feel less alone.

Want to hear more of mine? Read these other posts:

Through Pain and Delirium: How Love Shone Brightest in the ICU

Strength in the Shadows: Finding Light in Our Darkest Hours

Dorey Duncan Scott Senior Litigation Paralegal

Hi! I’m Dorey Duncan Scott, a mother of three, wife and fashion entrepreneur. I started my career in fashion back in the early 90’s when I did print, still and runway modeling. I studied Fashion Merchandising, Music Business and Marketing, while also obtaining certificates in such industry-necessary areas such as make-up, styling and runway choreography. In addition, I had work as a spokesmodel for several brands, appearing in print and in person. As a former model, turned senior litigation paralegal, artist manager and on-air personality with a passion for fashion, beauty, and personal development, I bring a unique combination of style, strategic thinking, and legal expertise to my work. My years navigating the legal world have sharpened my attention to detail, while my experience and passion for fashion, beauty, and personal development drives my desire to help others feel empowered and help them in their journey toward self-empowerment. My experience in the fashion world has taught me the power of confidence. 

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