The Universe doesn’t want us to be happy. If it notices we’re settling into a routine and seem to be handling our adversity with relative ease, it’s time to do a quick sweep under your feet that’ll knock you directly on your ass, possibly knocking the wind out of you at the same time.
My body is unpredictable and knowing this means I’m never surprised when something else goes wrong. Being realistic and knowing I’ll probably never be “normal” again (as if I ever was!) helps me let go of some of the disappointment. Thanks to MC, we live a comfortable life unless he goes on a drunken shopping spree, then I have to do damage control on the bank accounts. At least with his job we could make plans and have some sort of an idea of what the future might look like.
Universe says:”Fuck you! *whoosh*”
I’ve been a complete mess for a month since we found out that major surgery was necessary to correct something in MC that has the potential to be fatal in the not-so-distant future. Even worse after the first attempt was royally fucked. My biggest fear is that he won’t survive the next attempt. What happened to him happens in less than 1% of patients, and the actual surgery has a 1% chance of death. In that 1%, it happens 100% of the time. That’s not a comforting way to look at it, but at this point I think the worst and hope to be pleasantly surprised when I’m wrong.
Providing he does survive surgery, recovery is going to be impossibly difficult for him. I already know this because of how badly he’s reacting to what was actually very minor surgery by comparison; a small incision in his arm (similar to the one I got when my AV fistula was created), and the spot on his neck where they tried to insert the catheter (which I’ve also had, minus the massive fuck up!). I’d do it for him if I could, but I can’t.
He said he doesn’t know how I handle it, after he was given the unfortunate ability to empathize. I don’t know either. I just do. The difference between the two of us is that I’ve never been discharged with a bottle of hydromorphone, so apparently I internalize my pain way better than he does. When he says he’s in pain, they believe it and they over-treat it. When I say I’m in pain, they give me Tylenol. I wish I had some sage advice for him on how to be more zen when his body is burning in hellfire, but I don’t.
He’s the sole income provider and there’s a lot of financial stuff that scares the shit out of me because I’m the bill payer/accountant. We were on a 8 year plan to pay off debt, for him to finish his job training and obtain the appropriate certifications to be employable on the outside, and to figure out where we want to land when we’re “free”. I really wasn’t planning on living with his parents. I think I’d light myself on fire before I’d agree to that. We see how well I’m coping after one month of being with his family….just imagine after 6 months, a year, 5 years, a decade.
Between me sick, normal person sick, and a fucking uterus that faked me out initially then decided to be a big dumb whore, I’ve felt like a worthless piece of shit for the entire month. I’m feeling guilty that I can’t take care of him as well as I’d like and that I’m not 100% self-sufficient. I feel like being with them is an unnecessary burden and that I can’t do what I need to do in order to care for myself because what’s wrong with me doesn’t have as high of a mortality rate (with the exception of this recent bout of major depression – death fantasies are fun). At least, not as quick of a death as compared to what’s wrong with him.
When I’m asked how I am or how I’m feeling, I default to “I’m okay”. The truth is, I feel like I’m drowning. I don’t think I have to right to be in pain or feel like shit or mention how I’m feeling, even though nothing has changed on my side. All of a sudden, my suffering is no longer valid and won’t be acknowledged as something I can’t control, rather it’s something I’m not trying hard enough to fix or ignore. I know that’s bullshit. I do have a very strong sense of rationale, but outside influences weigh heavily on my ability to accept myself as I am. It’s me against many and my walls are weak.
My daily schedule until 10/2: Wake up, cry. Go to the bathroom, cry.
Visit with other humans. Go to the bathroom, cry. Repeat x >20 times.
Go to bed, cry until I fall asleep.
It’s all stupid, but those are emotions for you. At least I have two and half more days of peace before I have to dive back into the piranha tank.