The truth of the matter

(Please note: if you are reading this blog for the first time, you need to start with the post entitled " The reason" which can be found in the 2011 Archive)

Blog entry preceding this one is " 19 Things we never thought we would say or do or hear at our age."

Lily:


It has been awhile since posts.
The truth of the matter is that life has not exactly been the most pleasurable of times. While J.J and I make our jokes to each other, over the last month they have been few and far between which means writing about life is even harder. It's time now to share the hard parts; it's what we said we would do - write about the good and the bad, and so this is the bad.


To reiterate J.J's cancer is in his right forearm, his lungs, his skull - crushing the brain, and  his vertebra. In the last month I have seen J.J in so much pain and discomfort that it has cast a cloud over us. When he is low, I am low. When he pains, I ache and it can be one of those cycles that is hard to escape. I do not know if we are truly out of the darkness just yet for I am at a low myself, the weight of our world presses down upon my shoulders and it is all I can do to stand each morning... but I am trying... I'm trying.


J.J has been having the most horrific of times. When you are on the amount of pain killers that he is on, with the addition of radiation and chemotherapy, it messes up the internal system.  We have already had one emergency room visit because of the amount of pain that he has been in. J.J will take the medication that is suppose to alleviate the problem, but the very next day he is back to feeling the pain. And it is probably a combination of the tumours in his vertebra as well as the stomach pain that is making everything unbearable. He is slow in his movements around the house. He is out of breath. He sweats a little harder, he is quick to anger. There are days when he says mean things, not to me, but it is hard to hear him like this. He is very quick to annoyance, especially when he is around our 5 year old little chatterbox. I am always on my toes trying to keep the two separate when he is like this...yet there are times when I am not quick enough and I just have to hope that she was oblivious to his tone.


Side note: The above sentence beginning with "There are days when he says mean things, not to me..." is erroneous. I guess I do not want the outside world to see J.J in a negative light, however he is quick to anger with me as well. He does say mean things to me and I do annoy him ... apparently.
I love him...but I hate him. I hate everything about this and as J.J pointed out today it is probably the side-effects of the radiation treatment to his head.
I love him... but I hate him. I hate him so much - and then I hate myself for hating him since I know that it isn't him, it isn't his true self. But at present, he's a bastard at times and I have to love him because to me, I'm taking care of the man I married, the one who is loving, caring, funny, quick-witted and intelligent - and not this other man who at this particular moment in time, pisses me off. I do not want to talk to him, and I don't want to be around him. And I hate having to pretend that everything is alright, when it clearly isn't. This both blows and sucks!


Taking care of someone who is sick, truly sick and not just a case of man-flu is soul-sucking. There are things you have to do that you didn't think you would ever do.
I love J.J. I love him. I do not question my role as carer - I just get in, glove up, clean and care. Would I rather be on a beach with J.J, soaking up some warming rays poolside? Yes you bet your sweet behind I would but I do this because I am J.J's wife, his lover, his friend - it's cliched but I do it in sickness and in health, I don't question it, I just do it.


It would seem however, that it is hard to do. My last two days have been low. I do not believe J.J's current status is to blame, but I believe it may be a small part of it. I'm 34, I should be taking care of J.J in his last round when we are much older than we are now. We should still be in the phase of our lives where we are making babies, and working and holidaying with family and seeing our daughter grow up. Yet we are not! And thanks to Face book I get to read about others who are doing everything that J.J and I should be doing. Face book is a constant reminder of other people's happiness and at times that can be just as soul-sucking as living the experience of a loved one fighting cancer. It's not that I would deny my friends life joyous events but when it starts happening in stereo, where the number of girls on my friend list who are pregnant goes into double digits I can not but help feel that the world is giving me a "fuck you Lily." And this isn't to say I want my friends to not share with me their joys as then I would feel completely alone. I'm just saying... I'm just voicing why at this particularly moment I am down and what contributes to it.


If that is not enough to put me into a low ebb, I have to think about what happens after J.J has passed away. How do I provide for Arwyn? How do I provide for myself?  This isn't to say that Arwyn and I have been living off the fruits of J.J's labour. Far from it, J.J and I have both worked in our jobs since Arwyn has been born;  yet it's in trying to keep everything that J.J, Arwyn and myself have now - and keeping it that way after he has gone so that the essence of change isn't too much for Arwyn to bare. I want to keep her in the lifestyle we have. This means providing her with food, shelter and opportunity to become anything she may want to be as adult, that our current double income allows.  I feel that we struggle at the moment to provide these things, but we do get there in the end. The thought that I'll have to do the same on one income leaves me without breath as I do not know how to do it - I just don't know. And when I think I have the situation sorted where I know what we will do...a voice will question the choices and there is the seed of doubt.


Everything is hard.


In preparation for J.J's eventual outcome, we have started building a relationship for Arwyn with a Child therapist, to aid (when the time comes), to help explain, to be a mediator - J.J and I do not know how to explain it to her. How do you tell your child that her father is dying? For the moment, the therapist has said that we are better to hold off  in telling Arwyn as there is no sense in stressing Arwyn while J.J is still up and about and relatively healthy (as much as one can be with cancer). So we wait.


We shouldn't be here...we shouldn't be at this point in our lives. I feel so incredibly young, J.J is young and here we are, going through life at warp speed.


And I'm drinking. 
I'm stressed, and I'm drinking. Not in worrisome amounts, far from it - for Arwyn will always keep me in moderation yet I hate that in this time of stress alcohol helps. 


The truth of the matter.

J.J.: Yes I am an arsehole. 
I've been short, abrupt, inpatient - really inpatient and I've had the temperament of a rattle snake that you just trod upon.
None of it has been intentional. Not that it's an excuse, for all those that know me even slightly, they know that I can use words to cut and hurt deeply for years to come. 
But I am not in a good place at the moment. Mentally, more than physically. 
Yes, I am in pain, but it's not constant, it's just when it flairs up for that brief instance that shows outward.
There is a great deal of discomfort from the belly, waterworks and bowel. Most of it caused by the pain killers, the other medications and then added too by the doses of radiation. 
Fun. 
This part of the experience has made me appreciate the simple things of a proper morning constitutional. The trifecta of crap, coffee, cigarette. I hope those days aren't gone forever and that what my body is doing right now is only temporary. 


Because, I can quite honestly say I am full (or at least was) of shit. 
This is where the real problem lies - my body is poisoning itself. Can't get rid of the shit - that rubbish needs to go somewhere. Obviously I'm only speculating that's the cause, as I'm not a doctor - but I can pretty much match the times of being a true bastard to when I was most full.  It leaves me feeling apathetic, I haven't written in my own blog in roughly three weeks as well. I just haven't been able to think about anything at all. Just writing what I have here is a monumental effort. There is no flow to the words or the direction of what I want to convey.
It's overpowering ennui - you could tell me I'm on fire and I won't have known and would have just gone back to whatever task I was doing (or not doing as I can't concentrate), until you came back ten minutes later - told me the same thing - to which you will get a bark instead of a polite response. You've already told me my brain says - why are you still talking? Please, fucking one time is good enough. 
I've been like this before, but never for this long or this badly. Which is why I isolate myself. I don't want to hurt, anger, or be mean to those around me. Especially not Lily and not Arwyn. But, putting up a charade of smiles and happiness is a lot of effort, and I don't have the physical energy to do it either. Also, my memory is shot - so I have no recall of what I might have said or the tone I used. Which sucks, as I can go and piss someone off all over again not remembering I'd already said the same stupid thing.
During these last weeks, Lily has been over and above the call of duty. I can't thank her enough for all that she does around the home, Arwyn, her work, me. Its an astounding amount. 
And no amount of thank yous will ever be able to make up for it.