Friday, 8 August 2008

A Typical Day

Disclaimer: I love Mr TC incredibly. So very much. It's just hard, like I almost forget who he really is.

Today was good. I had finally submitted my article, hired out Juno (which I have been HANGING to see) and rented some movies for Tiger. Got takeaway so I didn't have to cook. Monkey was down for the count. I had a luxurious shower. I felt a strange yet vaguely familiar emotion ..... HAPPY!! I FELT HAPPY!!


Had a block of Cadburys AND a big bag of peanut M&Ms. Things were looking up!

Then Mr TC came downstairs. Soon, he will look like something we have both tried so desperately hard to avoid .... a cancer patient. The man has no light left in him.

His mood was catching .... of course, I soak up all his bad energy like a sponge and think "Oh, that's right. How could I forget ..... life is terrible."

Except, sometimes, occasionally ... it's not, for me. Life goes on. I feel ok - adrenalined up to the eyeballs, totally sleep deprived but hey. I'll take my mood-altering feelings anywhere, I'm not fussy.

It is very hard watching Mr TC go through this. Tonight I just wanted to SHAKE him and tell him to snap the fuck out of it. I keep feeling angry at him, which is so not fair. It's just so impacting and frustrating.

So, I consoled myself with my chocolate and put the movie on. Mr TC fell asleep straight away.

I'm lonely. My hubbie is gone, replaced by this empty broken shell of a man.

So I'm in Juno heaven (loved it) ... Tiger comes screaming out of his bedroom, there was a scary skeleton on his movie. (Home Alone 2 ..... rated G for fucks sake, you'd think they'd not put such scary shit in there). He was inconsolable .... runs over to me. Then supersonic ears Monkey wakes up, crying because his bum is red raw, skin is BLEEDING from diarrhhea, the poor guy. I paused my movie (at a pivotal scene) sighed, cursed, and thought .... I am never having any more kids EVER I am DONE.

So, I'm on the couch with both poor sweet boys .... Mr TC wakes up and is just staring at me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to say "Fuck thisssssssss."

I'm trying to mask the bottomless pit of pain I feel about watching the man I love the most in the whole world be so defeated.


I told him to go to bed.
_____


In other unrelated, yet equally compelling news ... I have decided to boycott the Olympics. I think it's an outrage they are being held in Beijing. Suck a fart about the smog ..... suck a big fat smoggy Beijing Chinese Olympic fart.

4 comments:

MrsSpock said...

What a rock and a hard place to be in, to be angry at and afraid for Mr TC at the same time. Ick. Chocolate sounds good.

About Monkey's bum- putting liquid Mylanta on his bum may neutralize the acidity of the trots and help his little tush. I don't know what they call it in Oz- basically liquid antacid. My peds nurse friend uses it in hospital.

PaleMother said...

Gah ... don't you hate it when you have to rise up and be more than you are? All you want is a little undisturbed grat, just like any other decent earthbound mortal ... a shower, some chocolate, a movie ... a free range head ...

My mom had surgery for uterine cancer two years ago ... after surgery, no chemo, no radiation, just regular checks. Her experience doesn't equate to Mr TC's (any more than mine equals yours), but I did see what it did to her ... how it changes people. Like a chemical injected into the veins of her character that permanently shifted her place on the periodic chart of personalities. Like a tounge turned neon blue by a popsicle ... still a tounge, yet disturbing to look at. It's a damn dirty trick ... for them and them that love them. Like some unreal, alchemical plot that should only ever be launched in an unreal, dark-comic-book universe by some unreal evil genius anti-hero.

Losing innocence is a life-long process, I guess. Who knew?

I have been wanting to say ... that I want to call Annie Liebowitz:

http://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images?_adv_prop=image&ni=20&va=annie+leibovitz&fr=yfp-t-501-s&xargs=0&pstart=1&b=21

To have her make you a new header for your blog. Something about her work suits you ... the narrative ... the flippant ... the graphically vogue ... the bizarre and beautiful ... the heroic. I would love to see what she made of you. Some tableaux like the one from The Sopranos ... a gorgeous, intelligent, silent screaming myth/fairytale/opera/inside joke.

XXOO

D was here.

nancy said...

I think it's okay to feel angry. I mean, come on, this is all pretty shitty. And I know you love Mr TC, but you are right, he's not Mr TC right now. Instead, being replaced with a cancer patient. It's not his fault and you know that, but just because it's something terrible, doesn't mean you have to be puppydogs and rainbows about it. You are allowed to feel the dispair about this too. So don't feel guilty about not loving every moment of your husband having cancer. It wouldn't be fair of the universe to ask you that.

And what a perfectly way to end such a happy day! ~hugs~

ps... I nominated you for the Pink Rose award. Come on over to see it!

Vacant Uterus said...

Oh man TC, these posts always make me want to come over to your house, cook up some cheesy popcorn and hug you.

I don't know how to say this without sounding stupid but it's okay to be angry at Mr. TC. Some days I wanted to slap Sarge until his eyes rolled. I was happy some days while he just fell apart. Life went on for me. Some days I felt like if he died, it wouldn't end my world. It would almost be a relief. And then I'd feel horribly guilty because I loved him and I knew if he really DID die I'd miss him so much. And around and around I went.

You're normal. You're okay. I mean you're not okay because GAH! the suckage, but in terms of emotional health, you're okay. And you are not alone in your feelings. So many other caregivers feel this way.

(I hope this didn't come out sounding assy.)