Garbage Day- Good Life

Today is garbage day. I missed it last week. I lost a whole day last week. Monday night Melanoma Man's brother Wayne arrived from North Carolina. It was spring break for Butter and imac. Melanoma Man had promised them a trip to Universal and Aquatica in Orlando in the hopes that Wayne would be able to join them. I don't have enough time off at the newish job yet to squander precious leave hours on spring break. I'm saving them for summer or sickness, never sure which. I've started to think amazing thoughts like maybe Melanoma Man is going to be around to see imac learn to drive, to see Butter start high school. Stuff like that. I get carried away and then I feel greedy. A voice inside my head says "isn't finishing elementary school and middle school good enough for you girl?"



So last Monday Wayne arrived around 6 pm at which point Melanoma Man advised him of the plan. No previous mention of a roadtrip to Orlando had been made to Wayne. I felt like I was in good company with Wayne, someone else who would understand the constant surprise elements introduced to life by Melanoma Man. Wayne was relieved that he would not be spending the two days with Mickey and Minnie. They played miniature golf at Pirate's Cove, swam in the hotel pool. Butter and imac went on all twelve slides at Aquatica.



At two o'clock early Tuesday morning I awoke with a headache in my left eye, neck, cheek, shoulder, the beginning of a tension headache for me. I took Advil. I applied heat. I got out Bob Anderson's Stretching Book to try to halt the storm. It was too late. The vomiting started around 3 a.m. and carried on until about 11 a.m. I called in sick to work. Melanoma Man, Wayne and the boys left for their adventure around 1:30 Tuesday afternoon once my storm had passed. My storms are familiar to me. I've had them as long as I can remember, although their frequency varies. It is my basic stress response, although I have a variety of other charming responses as well.



Thursday night Melanoma Man tentatively broached the subject of my headaches and vomiting episodes, which have only been two in the past 6 months. He suggested that I work on "acceptance." I refrained from hitting him with a shoe or a dictionary or any other household object. Instead I realized that what he meant to say was "I love you." Next he asked if maybe I would just possibly consider thinking about going to see a psychologist/Ginny, pretty please? Ginny helped me through the aftermath of the war evacuation from the Republic of Georgia during the Russian/Georgian war in 2008. I saw no combat, but it was a life upheaval to say the least.

I had thought the headache/vomiting episode through pretty thoroughly. I decided that right now I have to do something routinely, not just when I feel bad,not at the eleventh hour, not after all the laundry and chores are done to calm my mind and soul. I told Melanoma Man that life is a roller coaster and I am going to try to find a way to stay calm and centered on this roller coaster. Waves of headache and nausea returned on Friday, abated, returned on Saturday. I scheduled a $40 introductory offer massage on Sunday to undo all the kinks in the muscles of my head, neck, shoulders and back. Monday night and Tuesday night I spent an hour before bed on a Yoga/stretching video. I slept better Monday night than I have slept in two years. I'm still considering the psychologist/Ginny, but I didn't want to throw $160 at her so she could tell me to do things I know I need to do. If I fail to do them repeatedly I have committed to go see her. So all of that thinking and headaching and what not made me forget to take the garbage out last week. Double garbage and recycling today. I took it out to the curb last night for good measure.



Up at 5 this morning, I made chocolate chip muffins for the boys for breakfast. I did sneak some flax meal and whole wheat flour into the muffins. I left with imac at 6:45 a.m. for the bus stop. Melanoma Man left at 7 for Tampa. Butter spent an hour in the house by himself and then got himself to the bus at 8 a.m. Both boys home by bus this afternoon to an empty house for the first time. They texted and called and did homework and what not. Growing up. I left work at 5. Good news from Melanoma Man in Tampa. His brain MRI shows only 1 of the original 8 brain tumors remains, still shrinking on the Dabrafenib and the Mekinist. I picked up pizza on the way home. The boys finished their chores, while I finished breakfast dishes. Homework done, I told them they could watch a little tv for a special treat. They chose Scooby Doo. I remember watching Scooby Doo on Saturday mornings forty plus years ago with Johnny Reb. Something reassuring about Scooby.



Then this song started going through my head, so I am sharing it with you:

Saturday

I forgot my hair appointment today, which is out of character. A bit of stress on the brain, anticipating the upcoming Cancer Center appointments. Not nearly as dramatic as the time I left the keys in the Cadillac, with the engine running and the car unlocked ALL DAY at work. I'm sort of famous at work for this, at least with the medical center security staff. I was once again reminded that I have an angel the day that happened. It wasn't even cancer that evoked that response. It was my health insurance company. Waiting for approval on Melanoma Man's Zemaira which treats his Alpha 1 Anti-Trypsin deficiency. We waited about 9 weeks and then no one could tell us what it would cost us out of pocket. We found out the hard way when a bill for $10,000 came in the mail 6 months after he started treatment. It's a steal compared to the full retail cost, which is about $96,000/year.  Saturdays are usually crazy for me under the surface, trying to inconspicuously wash all the sheets and clothes, sweep, mop, clean bathrooms etc when melanoma man isn't looking. Last night cleaning kitchen counters Melanoma Man walks in with THAT face on. It's a face that makes me want to smack him, but I never do.  "I feel so unworthy," he says and then I feel a little guilty for my thought crime.

"Too late for that. I already love you, you can't give it back. Just accept it." I said

"Look at this," he shows me his swollen elbow. It has a pouch of fluid that feels like a water balloon just under the skin. "What is it?" He says.

"A ruptured bursae I suspect. Does it hurt?"

"It's been hurting for 4 days, but mostly it's scary, not knowing what it is. My shoulders hurt too. I can barely lift my arm."

"Yup, that's probably bursitis too, just not ruptured."

"And I ache all over. My book is in the car, but I was too tired to get it."

It must be terrible to be betrayed by your body. He apologizes for what he perceives as complaining. I don't see it that way. "You are not supposed to carry all the burdens by yourself," I say. I don't say, but I do think " you act like such an asshole when you are pretending to be fine." 

Next week 2 days in Tampa for CT scans, MRI, labs, EKG, physical exam and results. More results. I took the two days off from work so I could stay home with the kids. My plans foiled again. "I'm taking the boys with me. You don't need to take off from work," he said.

"I am coming on this trip," I said. Too bad so sad. He is such a control freak. He changes the plan again, so I change my work schedule again. I'm not going to have it, him taking the kids by himself with a very high likelihood that the tumors will have grown.

Today we have the afternoon, evening, and night to ourselves. Friends A & K have invited the boys for an overnight. They are practicing their grand parenting skills or so they say. I think they are really just practicing extreme kindness and thoughtfulness. They have 5 grown boys between them. It's been years since we went on a date or had any time to ourselves. It was possible to do every week when we lived overseas and our dollars went a long way. Here in the USA it's more of an investment.  He is so in love with the boys that I have often felt like an outsider. 

Back when he was managing energy projects in developing countries he managed a lot of people. When he counseled staff about work performance he always started with a compliment before proceeding into what was supposed to be constructive criticism. Unfortunately he has applied this technique at home as well. Every "I love you," followed with "but..." So much so that I would do almost anything to avoid hearing the first half of the sentence because I knew what was coming. I get on his nerves and he gets on mine. That's where my fantasy of having my own cottage in the backyard came from. I just don't particularly see the point of telling him what his flaws are,  so I have never done it. Most of us already know our own flaws by heart. Whenever I might tell him I love him he would ask why. "Because, that's why, so there, love is a verb, now I have to provide supporting evidence? Are you kidding me?" The evidence is that I see the flaws, all of them. And I'm still here. I'm still here.

So with no kids to manage we had a picnic of carry out from Moe's and watched The Help in our living room. I sat still for the whole movie. If you know me you know that this is a miracle, this sitting still. My To Do list is almost always running in the background. Tonight for the first time since before we married he said " I love you," without the "but." It was worth sitting still for.