Cancerland

Oh, how this week has flown by! I can't believe it's Thursday already. I don't really remember much about Monday or Tuesday. You and I thought we had a Pancreatic Cancer Support Group meeting at the Wellness Community from 7 - 9 pm so Kyle and Laura left about the time we did. We arrived at 6:45 only to be told that the group meeting was almost over; they start at 5 and end at 7. So we've missed another month with them. They meet the fourth Monday of the month. We missed November because our initial visits came after the fourth Monday, we missed December because that's the week the Community is closed for holidays, and now we have missed January. I have written it down in my calendar so we won't miss the February meeting. We came back home. You went to sleep. I had an evening of 'unwanted aloneness'.

Tuesday it rained. Why did I save my errands for a day when it rained? I don't know! It was a quiet evening. We didn't have anything to do, and I like that. I spent some time with Dad and then chose to work on paperwork for our insurance reimbursement while you slept. Another evening of 'unwanted aloneness'. My students had been difficult, and I was feeling slightly frustrated. Fortunately, my new student was going to be gone all week to ski in Colorado. Kevin was going to be out all week because his mom wasn't feeling well; she just had a baby last week and is not sleeping much. She was going to keep Kevin and his brother home from school all week so she could catch up. I prepared a large packet of work for him to do at home.

On Wednesday it was not raining. Thankfully. I hope we have lots and lots of water for the dry months. That would make all this rain worthwhile. Kevin's mom brought him back to school; it wasn't worth it to keep him and his six-year-old brother home from school. I bet they were diving her up the wall. And it was no walk in the park having him back. He struggles with learning and has a low frustration level which, when he hits, puts him in an unapproachable and angry mood. He needs to be in school and he needs to try.

We went to our respective cancer support groups where we both had interesting conversations. I was quiet for most of my group's discussion but there came a time where the leader looked at me, and I shared. For me the dilemna is the disconnect I have between what they tell me is going to happen to you and what you are like now. You are healthy, you do things, you can work around the house, you go bike riding with me, shop for groceries, make breakfast every day, and so on. I don't want to be in denial about your diagnosis. On the other hand, I want to live in these moments with you, enjoy you while you're feeling well. I want you to do the things you want to do while you can. I don't want 'anticipatory grief'. Being sad because you are supposedly dying is unproductive. There will be plenty of time for grieving. However, I must also plan for the future, a future that will include your death------however long, short, painful or anguished it may be for us------the reconciling of your existence and its material evidence, and a future for me without you, a future that might be very, very long and lonely, I fear. Don't be in denial, live in the moment, and prepare for what I am told is your inevitable future. That is my dilemna. It is my life Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and every day for as long as we are living in Cancerland.