I can’t think of anything more interesting to title this entry. In short, it’s just where my brain is right now.
I’m worried about my husband. He left work early yesterday because the side effects of the chemo were kicking his ass hard. I predict (which will probably be pretty accurate) that the next few days are going to be very rough on him.
I’m also worried about the Delta variant of Covid, particularly because his protection from the vaccine is limited and the Delta variant is so much more transmissible. I’ve been wearing disposable masks in public but I think I’m going to start double-masking again.
I know that masking (or double-masking) can only do so much. If he gets it, we will just have to take the consequences as they lay. But I want to do everything possible to prevent at least being the one to give it to him.
But I was trying to get stuff ready for the kitten last night and J said the shallow litter pan that we have is in the attic. He was obviously in no condition to get it himself, so I asked my youngest to go up there and get it. He tried but didn’t feel like the ladder to the attic was stable enough, so he didn’t end up getting it. I ended up ordering one from Amazon that should be delivered before we get the kitten.
We’re supposed to be adopting a kitten tomorrow, which is normally very exciting. I actually had to get toddler-proofing supplies to keep my cat Roshi out of my office, where we’ll be sequestering the kitten at first. I am amused that my Roshi is so clever that he can figure out how to open the doors to my office. 😉
In that moment, though, I realized just how much we all depend on my husband and I just felt so helpless. Due to my balance issues, I can’t get up in the attic, either. And that’s just one tiny example of the many ways J helps all of us. I am in no way prepared for life without him.
I know that my husband is undergoing all the tortures of chemo in hopes that he’ll be around longer and that may indeed work. His last CT scans showed that his tumors were either stable or shrinking.
But at the same time, I’m also really aware that things could take a dramatic turn for the worse at any time, because that’s just what cancer does, and you can’t always see it coming.
Meanwhile, I really feel like I have no one to turn to for comfort. I talk with my mom a lot but on this subject, her “help” is completely worthless. She just tells me to keep thinking positive and to express the same optimism to J, which seems extraordinarily naive and dismissive of the fact that he has a terminal illness. No amount of positive thinking can erase that fact. I just want someone I can cry to about how grossly unfair this seems.
There’s a Counting Crows song from their first album that I’ve always loved called “Anna Begins”. I always interpreted the lyrics as being about losing someone to illness. I’ve since found out that that’s not what it’s about at all, but I still prefer my interpretation.
That song has been going through my head a lot lately. I feel like I’m slowly losing my grip on J and the life we’ve had together. As the song says at the end, oh Lord, I’m not ready for this sort of thing.