Pace got feedback that the Blog's name should be changed from "Keeping Pace" to "Breast Cancer: a Technical Journal." For future reference, the easiest and least hurtful way to be a critic is press the comments button at the bottom of the post. Please direct your commentary on this blog my way not Pace’s.
So this entry's for those who've been waiting for some great schadenfreude.
Pace got in on Friday and we've had an unmitigated emotional fiasco, more crying and yelling episodes in these days than I can remember in our entire relationship.
I know my stress comes from: the potential of losing Pace, the uncertainty of raising the wee one on my own, having exhausted my financial resources, reduced to living from paycheck to paycheck, obliged to the charity of family and friends to make ends meet, being stuck with a frustrating contract that doesn't pay the bills, watching as new and necessary expenses for drug treatments add onto the existing prescriptions, and then the necessary expenses just pile up.
It just doesn't seem to matter how much I cut back, cancel services and sell off assets, new carcinoeconomic expenses eat the surplus and more. (Anyone want to buy a CD collection?)
Add to that the reality of maintaining a 5 1/2 room apartment where I sleep only 4-5 nights a week. The place has been falling apart, (4 water leaks from the apartment above since December, to start). Two weeks ago I discovered my clothes and the plaster wall of my closet was soaking wet from a bathtub leak upstairs. It took 3 long nights of washing to get my clothes clean. Then there’s the drywall and plaster dust that the contractors left behind, try getting that out of your stuff.
My insomnia is such that I'm getting only 4 to 5 hours of sleep a night. Only the nights I take sleeping pills do I get eight to 12 hours or more. But I'm wading thought jello for the next day. I know the lack of sleep wreaks havoc with my brain chemistry, but what do I do?
I try to believe I'm maintaining a brave face and trying to provide steadfast support for my family but in some ways I’m not. Being 600 kilometers from my wife and daughter and getting only 46 hours total with them per weekend has been rusting me from the inside.
The sad thing is that rather than pull together, it feels like we're unraveling. I'm not sure what will mend us.
I took two sleeping pills last night and felt a lot better this morning. As I pulled Pace close to me this morning she pushed away. After yesterday's meltdown she's not ready for that level of intimacy. Then Pace feels that I am going out the door all sad and suicidal; ready to die in a single car accident. It's an odd projection. I’m sad yes but suicide is out of the question.
I am wondering what I have to do to make our 12 year marriage and 15 year relationship together survive. "If I can’t deal with the pressure for a year, for her, what kind of husband am I?"
The short answer is, just a man dealing with a plate filled to overflowing.
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