Appointment with the oncologist today. Blood was drawn yesterday for tumor markers. We need a merry Christmas present in a big way. If this treatment isn't working, our options are limited.
I'm edgy. Sure, we could get good news today, and I hope we do. But we could get bad news. As this appointment has drawn closer and my understanding of that has deepened, I've become increasingly fearful. While I've had an intellectual understanding that GH might not meet the twins, it's taken until today for it to really hit me.
For now, keeping fingers crossed. All the good luck charms we own are in our chemo bag. We need them.
In other news, I've found a few blogs maintained by women around my age whose husbands have/had cancer. Actually, all had at this point. All of been widowed. All write very eloquently about how that feels. It is helpful, albeit morbid, of me to see that despite their wounds, they have found a way to go on in life, even if emotionally they are barely getting by. All three have kids, some young. Just knowing that other people survive on the other side has been important to me lately.
All three also muse about how hard it is in this (American) society to talk about death. It's too scary. But when mortality is in your face every day, it's also too important a topic to be ignored.
My posts lately have been very doom and gloom. I think that's direcly tied to two things: 1. With the twins on the way, my fears of GH dying have intensified dramatically; 2. I can't talk about the doom and gloom stuff anywhere else. No one can take it. When I try, (most) people say stupid shit like, "Be positive. Look on the bright side. Focus on the good things." So I dump it here and leave it and at least it gets out.
Also, it's 5°F outside. Fuck you, winter.
Moi
- Snickollet
- I'm a mother and a widow, and a whole lot of other things. Here, though, I tend to write about parenting, grief, and their intersection.
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1 comment:
I think it's good that you're using this blog to express some of your thoughts and feelings. You have been through and continue to go through so much, and I for one am amazed at your strength and resilence. But I worry about you and hope that you will seek a out a counselor or support group for yourself.
Your observation that people in our society have trouble talking about death is very interesting, and accurate, I think. For some, it may just be a difficult concept to wrap one's head around. And the survival instinct bubbles up, causing people to want to flee and avoid, even in their comments. I don't mean to make excuses for their behavior or the stupid comments some people have made to you, but in some ways I think I may understand where it comes from. Intellectually, you no doubt recognize this too, but that is no comfort, and so I am very sorry you have encountered so many frustrating moments when turning to others for support.
Personally, I remain grateful and humbled that you've shared this blog with me. Reading your entries here has put a lot of abstract thoughts into vividly real focus for me. Your pain and fear are so evident here, and they aren't always so visible when we talk or meet face to face. I truly wish there were something more I could do to ease that pain and alleviate those fears. For both you and GH.
I'm thinking about you a lot here, and I share a very small fraction of your fear that GH may not meet his children. I hope that is not the case. Do you remember the day we went to the coast last April? The three of us sat on the rocks and later went for lobster. When GH was in the restroom, you told me that if the worst should happen, you envisioned yourself coming here to stay with me for a while. Please know that I will be here for you, should that day come.
Sorry for the random string of thoughts. More than one "comment" I suppose. Know that I'm thinking about you guys and praying for good news from the oncologist appointment.
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