This entry has been a long time coming. Possibly the most difficult one to date. I've resisted this topic because it's ugly, but I've come to realize that I'm not helping anyone who walks this path if I'm not honest about this, so here goes...
One of the most difficult aspects of your significant other's cancer is that you can no longer argue like normal, healthy couples. That may sound ludicrous, but when you've been on the roller coaster this long, you're bound to have patches of pseudo-normalcy, and like any normal couple issues will arise that require a good clearing of the air.
I will warn you.... if you go there, there be dragons.
First. You will NEVER win an argument again. Ever. You won't. And even if you do, the victory only opens the flood gates of Guilt and drowns you, your victory and any ground you thought you gained. Now, that's not really winning. Is it.
Even sensing that fact, you will succumb to the frustration of your partner getting on your nerves. This only happens during periods of relative calm between storms. They almost appear to be their old selves, and that combined with all you endured during the storms....well, you get the idea. I don't have to explain how arguments get started. Once started, you are so screwed.
No matter how justified you are, you are bitching at a Cancer Patient. They don't even have to pull the cancer card; it is the big silent elephant in the room. If they do pull the cancer card, you should admit defeat instantly and stop pissing into the wind. This is where you should stop digging. I, however, have a very long fuse that ignites a Number Ten can of Whoop Ass. Once I pull the can opener, there's no going back. (Wow. That was a horribly mixed metaphor.) I must stand my ground and call foul because I'm all about staying on point and attacking the problem not my partner. Right. Good luck with that approach. By the time he drops the “Well I am Sooooo sorry I got cancer and ruined YOUR life.” I realize I'm fighting with both hands tied behind my back. From the sheer frustration of not being able to smack the shit out of him I am awash in tears.
No matter how nicely I try to explain my position he feels attacked and takes cover behind Cancer. One more reason to hate this insidious disease. I've learned that I can't even complain about the cancer. Cancer is like a very evil mother-in-law. She may be ruining your life but you can't say shit about it because it's HIS mother.
All of this because he appears to be getting back to normal, so for the last three weeks I've been asking him to help with Christmas preparations. Why? Because I'm an idiot. Then I get frustrated because I feel like I'm being ignored, and when I try to get him to focus on the problem.... well, it degenerates quickly.
Maybe it would help if I could always remember that appearances are illusions, “normal” is a memory, and he lives constantly in the grip of cancer. It is present in his every waking moment. I struggle with this. If I cater to that victim mindset, I'm enabling it. I work so hard not to treat him like a patient so that he won't become one. I'm starting to feel like it would be easier just to give in and let him be a patient, the same as it's easier to give in to a child's demands rather teach the lesson. Maybe I need to take care of things and expect nothing from him, even when he has good days and energy for other things.
If you think it helps to have others to vent to rather than argue with your mate—from my experience it doesn't. Oh sure, it's kept me from slitting my wrists, but complaining about Rich to ANYONE just makes me feel horrible, petty and disloyal. Usually I end the vent by totally defending him against every one of my complaints so what in the hell did I accomplish?! Seriously. How despicable do you have to be to complain about how your spouse is dealing with cancer.?!? I told you this wasn't going to be pretty.
So I spent most of yesterday crying. Surprisingly easy despite 20mg of lexapro daily. I'm angry and hurt and I despise myself for being a bitch.
But he showed me!! I got home from work this evening and found he had decorated the tree. By himself. That cut like a knife—the end of a fourteen year tradition. On the upside, the living room looks like a tornado blew through so I have to put all the containers away and clean. That's what I call penance. I should be able to get a lot done since he's not talking to me.
Thought for Today:
Q. How is Cancer like a vacuum cleaner, a dog, and a fan?????
A. It sucks, it bites, it blows.
