People say that cancer changes everything. But the biggest surprise to me was how little it changed things with my husband. There is a period of crisis, of course, when you’re clutching each other’s hands and can’t bear to think of the “'til death do us part” vow actually coming true. It seems almost unspeakable. But then, possibly out of necessity, you just keep on with the familiar: Tuesdays are garbage night, a leaky faucet needs fixing, eye exams and dental appointments need to be made. My husband and I squeezed out a few date nights to the movies or to dinner, which helped us pretend for a little while that nothing was changing. The marriage marches on, from the mundane to the magical and back again.

Hopefully your partner will be there to hold your hand during appointments, or make you laugh when the time is right, or sit quietly when you just want someone to sit with. But they might not, and that’s normal. They might want to take a walk or a bike ride or just drive around and have some time to themselves. What few people talk about is this: Even with cancer, you will still nag your spouse about taking out the garbage. There will still be moments — weeks, months even — of an ordinary marriage. Cancer doesn’t mean a rosy glow on everything, sweet smiles at every turn. A cancer diagnosis merely adds another element to the otherwise complicated act of marriage.

Making sure your partner or spouse gets time off is important. Their life has been turned upside down, as well. And they might be the one with the health insurance, so they simply must go to work every day to keep the insurance and the income. If you, the patient, are the breadwinner, that pressure will undoubtedly be even worse. (And that might require a financial-planning meeting.) I can say from the other side that it’s best to get your feelings out; this isn’t the time to let resentment build. Talking to a therapist or marriage counselor, even if it’s once or twice, can be a lifesaver. If your spouse or partner’s family is able to visit, that can provide some relief and comfort for them. Your partner’s in Cancerland, too, albeit on a different level; they need someone to turn to as well. Allowing them to lose it and cry — in front of you, or alone, or with whomever they trust — is so important. They need that space, particularly if you’re facing a prolonged treatment. (One caveat here: If your in-laws create more stress for you, the patient, plan accordingly so your partner can have time alone with their family.)

What I felt most those first three months of my cancer road trip was anger. This was totally unexpected. It stemmed from so many places: anger that there might be a life without me being present, anger that my husband didn’t understand my emotions and exactly what I was going through, anger at this life interruption that might possibly be longer than a pause. Knowing ahead of time that there might be a level of anger would have helped me. Being able to tell your partner that it’s cancer you’re angry with, rather than them or the over-scrambled eggs they made you, is imperative.

Your partner or spouse also might not want to talk about your diagnosis and everything that goes along with it. There might be more silence than you would like. Not everyone is ready to talk about the same things right at the same moment. It was too hard for me in the beginning to talk to my husband about my concerns, so I wrote him a letter instead. Do whatever feels right for you, but get the words out. To me, it was important to get the words down, and even if we didn’t have to face the unspoken right then, I knew at least I had said what I wanted to say. Ignoring the obvious and not addressing certain realities only adds to the frustration, disappointment, and anger over your illness.