Trish and I had a sad, hurtful, destructive fight earlier today. We both said things we deeply regret. I guess the stress got to us.
In a study of women with breast cancer and their male caregivers, the males consistently rated their own care-giving capability lower than their own wives did. That doesn’t surprise me. We’re completely helpless to do anything besides trivially deal with side-effects.
And people expect us to be the most responsible person. It’s hard to feel like you are doing a good job.
I know they mean well, but sometimes I wish people would stop asking if things are ‘ok’. ‘NO!‘ I want to shout. ‘My beautiful young wife, and the mother of my girls has fucking cancer and I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.’
And Lord knows, Trish isn’t even terminal. Her re-occurrence raises the risks a lot, but she still stands a decent chance of long-term survival. How did our friends Dena and Andrea deal with a dying spouse? I can’t even imagine. And I’m only on week 7.
It’s Monday and the chemo-sickness is almost totally gone. Trish gets through a whole 90-minute dance-class tonight. It’s an amazing accomplishment only six days after she had the chemo injections.
She’s a little nauseous when she comes out, but the blood flow from exercise helps clean her system and stimulates the brain, which she needs.
Almost everyone undergoing chemotherapy gets Chemo-brain. (15% suffer it even after chemo stops.) The symptoms are ‘a mental fogginess that may include problems with memory, word retrieval, concentration, processing numbers, following instructions, multitasking and setting priorities.’ (NYT) Yep, that sounds like Trish right now.
Cancer hates laughterclassic 911 call from a cop that thinks he’s going to overdose on pot brownies.
And then in an epic moment, we decide to invite Carol Ryder’s facebook image to the party and grope her boobs. Carol (A-cup) and Trish (DD-cup) have a running joke about each others tits.
Wednesday night, the original ‘Lunch bunch’ from Discovery, Amy M. Allison R. Randi K. Lori W. and Robin B., took Trish to Jackie’s in Silver Spring.
(And it was terrible like I said it would be. For the love of God, stop going to Jackie’s.)
But Trish came home and giggled all night. Thank god for friends that take her out and make her laugh! She stopped laughing at my jokes 10 years ago.
Spa girlsI mentioned her in another post about Trish’s hair falling out the first time. She’s been with us through a lot.
Early this week I called Sonja with a plan to bring all the girls together to the Spa/Salon (Tara in Georgetown) for manicure/pedicure and hair cuts. The girls need more events with their Mom.
Somewhat ironically, as we fuss about Trish’s hair falling out, the girls and I have grown shaggy hair that is months overdue for a cut. I can’t see anything on their faces except braces and missing teeth.
The nails are painted and Emma and Lily get adorable summer cuts. Sonja does Lily in a Betty Page that is jaw-droppingly cute. They think of Sonja like an Aunt.
Continued, so read on!