Sunday, May 26, 2013

When present tense gets strangled in the woes, made of our future foe scenarios

Today Jay comes home.  This is a profoundly good thing.

Tomorrow he starts the Regorafenib.  Tuesday he has a CT scan, so we have a baseline against which to measure the success of the new drug.  These are both necessary things.

I'm beginning to feel my own version of Jay's The Fear.  In my case, it's a skidding, sliding panic that everything is about to fall down around us.  I'm constantly on the verge of tears. If my life permitted it, I'd be living in a xanax haze to keep the excruciating anxiety at bay.

But life needs to be lived, and things need to be done, so I persevere.

Since the day I met Jay, the work that I've done in my head has been a process of letting go of my own expectations about everything, about things mundane and profound.  Let go, let go let go.

Now I'm finding that I need to find ways to let go of the most basic expectations of this life - that he will be here and healthy and happy on any given day, that I will have the partner who I love so dearly, that anything will be the same.

I came into this relationship as aware as anyone could be of what the consequences of the choice to be here were.  I knew to the core of my being that this love that is so dear to my heart might not have much of a future. I knew that whatever time we have together is worth the cost of the pain at the end.

I knew all these things, I felt them all deeply.  I know all these things, and feel them all deeply.

But now we're down to the wire, and I am afraid.

Let go, let go, let go.


  1. I read a book years ago in which parrots had been trained to fly around an island and say "HERE AND NOW, boys, HERE AND NOW". I thought it was a great idea then, and I still do. All you can do is listen to the and now, here and now.

    1. Island by Aldous Huxley. Yeah, it's a good one.

  2. Do you feel like there is any comfort to be gained from knowing that this is a path of your own choosing, rather than one you were thrust upon? As in: you realized you loved Jay, therefore you had a choice to either reject both the depth of love and depth of pain by stepping away, or accept them, with the bonus of helping another human being.

    1. P.S. This is Liz/Lisa Coleman.

    2. There is definitely comfort there, and joy as well. I made this choice consciously, knowing the cost I would pay. But it was my choice and that truly is a comfort.