On the phone after 5 pm he told me that he had refused the first two dates and had accepted the 24th. I said "No, just NO. This is about priorities. You call Beverly back and ask for the first date." My after thought was that perhaps he is tired and really just wants to stop treatment. And then, why did I even say that? He cannot hear me. I had calmed down significantly by the time I got home. I asked MM of maybe he was ready to stop. He looked alarmed and said No, emphatically no.
The next day he was assigned a new surgery date, September 24. Two days later, another call from Beverly. The radiologist isn't available on the 24th. At this point no surgery date. This week he forgot Butter's math tutoring and imac's flute lesson. Butter & iMac reminded him. He left the stove on twice. Beverly called two days ago and confirmed surgery for the 24th. Yesterday he told me he's having nausea and sometimes his right foot drags. I noticed his handwriting change last week. This morning he asked me how many brain tumors he has had in total. Eleven total, 5 right now. On the way to church I decide I am going to be cheerful. I will play tricks on myself. I'll put on makeup and church clothes and act as if. Home from church I slip into a cleaning frenzy without realizing it. In so doing, as is often the case, I seem to have created a bit of chlorine gas. There was a touch of bleach in the rinse water for dishes. Then I wiped out the sink with a Seventh generation disinfecting wipe, immediately recognized that familiar smell and feeling. Opened all the doors, turned on the fan, ran the water in the sink, took the kids outside. MM said he didn't smell it, so he wasn't getting up form the living room sofa. It was primarily over the kitchen sink, so I didn't fret about MM. Mostly I was disgusted with myself. I couldn't fool me anymore with fake cheerfulness, how would I fool them into not seeing the fear.