I caught a wave tonight that I couldn’t handle, and it took me under.
Since this started, I find myself being angry much of the time. Thinking about unfairness and why David. Why us? Why now? And just plain why?
It isn’t fair. Such a cliché statement but seems to be my go-to negative, unhelpful mantra on my gloomiest days.
I try to pray. I don’t think I ever really knew how. Often it seems silly whispering, and in some cases, shouting words into the air. Asking questions, making promises and pleading with someone or something I cannot see. Talking to someone that isn’t talking back. Faith is a funny thing. I asked David one day, “how do you get faith?” He told me you can have faith in anything. It doesn’t have to always be a religious experience. He says faith could be as simple as trusting we will be ok to get in the car and drive from point a to point b and arrive safely. I should record him saying things. He is very smart. That is an understatement. I feel like recording him is weird like I am giving up and saying I want something to hold on to when you are gone. But really, why wouldn’t we do that anyway? No matter if a person is healthy or if they find out they have cancer. There isn’t time to worry about if it seems silly. But I do.
Tonight, as before, I tripped down a rabbit hole of survival rates and metastatic disease. I don’t know why except that I was looking for information on treatment options. I know there is nothing good down this cold, statistical path. More times than I care to admit, I have fallen into those dark holes of reading too much. Someone that is going through a similar thing with her husband told me early on to only be concerned about the information we have in the moment. She said don’t go looking for more information than you need at this time. I have come to understand how important this advice is. I can’t process what life would look like without my person. I just can’t. I know what the reality is. I know what the studies show. He is more than a statistic. People say live every moment as if it is your last. I don’t know how to do that. I honestly don’t. It is unfathomable. Some days I feel like I can do whatever it takes and sometimes the weight of all of this is too heavy. Many nights I toss and turn and restlessly sleep a couple of hours before my mind is racing with these thoughts of worry and what ifs and should’ves and could’ves.
It really isn’t fair for anyone to go through something like this, and I find myself saying that too often as we encounter set back after set back and full chairs in the infusion room every other week. What is the purpose? I know what religions teach about suffering. It just never seems to make sense to me or maybe, more accurately, there isn’t an acceptable reason to me.
Something I read tonight said living with metastatic cancer is like walking on cracked ice. You can see the cracks. You are just wondering when they will start breaking up and things will start falling apart. I feel like most of my days are like that. I know I am wasting precious time feeling this way and not spending every moment making him the happiest I can. As much as I would like to sit and hold on to him all day every day, it just doesn’t work like that. Life keeps moving. The universe doesn’t wait because some of us are struggling. Cancer is expensive and I have to work. He wouldn’t want me underfoot all day anyway. I am sure he thinks he gets plenty of unsolicited attention as it is. But I miss him when I am at work. I think I have separation anxiety and it makes me wonder how I can actually function with any of this.
I feel weak. I feel sad. I feel ungrateful and bitchy and so damn angry.
<3 (my part -d)
