What does it feel like when a man looks at his dying wife? 
Because it feels like that's what this is -- Elizabeth Edwards' breast cancer is back, in the bone. Possibly, the doctor says, on the lung.
The lung.
God bless them both.
Of course I want to make the monologue joke about how Newt Gingrich would be interviewing potential replacements by now, but that feels crass. I'm glad they're continuing the campaign, though if she dies and John gets elected, his credibility will be that much more hard-won since people will think he got sympathy votes. Like Sanjaya, but like, way worse.
The average person, in the average family, has to continue on around a cancer diagnosis -- in spite of it. People work, their families continue to function. And when it gets bad, seemingly average people become extraordinary, mining rich deposits of emotional and physical strength they never knew they had. And isn't that exactly what we ask of our leaders? To be extraordinary, to accomplish far more than their share, yet to remain somehow touchable. Real.
Then again, maybe they're looking at each other knowing there's nothing they can really do but hold each other tighter and lean in, against the wind.
