Eventually I found home. Home was with Melanoma Man. I stopped getting sick until his travel schedule picked up significantly. Melanoma Man's work had him out of the country eighty percent of the year. I started getting sick every time he left the country. One particularly difficult night of vomiting and headache landed me in the ER for dehydration. I was pregnant with Butter at the time, but didn't know it. My pregnancy test in the ER came back negative. My ER doc's diagnosis was tension headache. After a bit he sat down next to my bed and asked: "Where is your husband?" I replied: "He's in the former Soviet Union."
"He needs to come home, now. Can you call him?"
"No, but I can email him."
"You go home and email him and tell him he has to come home for good."
I'm not sure how this ER doctor knew the source of my ailment, but he did. I tried to put on a brave front during Melanoma Man's travels, but he saw through it.
I have found myself irritated, annoyed, and angry with Melanoma Man during these cancer months, trying not to need him, trying in fact to dislike him intensely. Knowing that I am losing home.