Jumping the shark.

I expected tonight to be all about toasting bubbly with the hubby and doing the happy dance. But somewhere around the gagillionth hour of racing to yet another doctor appointment just to hear them go: “Blah-blah-blah-CANCER-blah-blah-blah,” I hit a wall. And I’ve hit so many of those lately that it could just be that I have a concussion.

Yes, it is completely, unbelievably, joyful-to-the-brim, fantastic news that the hubby’s cancer hasn’t metastasized. But I have to admit that I was so far from thinking that it had, that the news wasn’t a big surprise. I never felt a single tinge of anxiety over the outcome of that scan. I think I’ve reached the point that whatever we’re dealt, we will just GD DEAL WITH IT. But, seriously, if they had instead said, “well, it’s a big surprise but...” I would’ve simply ceased to exist. On the spot.

And right now, I’m just weary. I want to fly away and be alone for two years (or so). I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to think. I just want to be still and stare at some truly turquoise water for a really long time. (And a cold drink or two with salt on the rim would be nice too.)

So instead, I said, “I know I’m not giving you much notice here, but I REALLY NEED TO BE ALONE.” It’s so hard to say those words to the person you love the most in the world when he’s fighting the fight of his life. Feeling selfish doesn’t even begin to describe it. He just wants his effin life back and that’s all he asks for. And I turn out to be the one who thinks I might be about to lose it. I guess it has something to do with being scared witless. And unable to do a single solitary thing about it.

I can’t believe that he is going to start chemo NEXT WEEK. We’ll likely bring in the 17th year of marriage with him in the throes of chemo reactivity. (I guess I could light a candle in the bathroom.)

But it isn’t about a missed anniversary. I’d SO prefer to have him HERE even if he’s feeling like hot shit on a shingle. It’s just that it’s now really, truly REAL. He has FREAKIN’ CANCER and I have no idea why. I’m pissed. I want him back. I want him WHOLE. I want him HEALTHY. I WANT THIS WHOLE EFFIN THING TO GO AWAY.

I don’t want my girls to have to stay at our neighbor’s house on the second day of school because we have to be down in Wheatridge at 6-oh-freakin-oh-clock for port surgery. Or to have another flipping appointment with yet another flipping doctor who is nice and trying to heal us and trying to inform us. And trying to piece us back together.

I don’t want to try to schedule a date night and have him anxiety-ridden because he’s afraid he’ll have to poop a hundred times during dinner.

And I DON’T want to sit there for four hours next Tuesday and watch them pump poison into my one-and-only’s veins.

So here I sit. In front of my computer in my sparkling clean and newly organized office. Crying my eyes out while he’s at the neighbor’s getting the girls to bed. I’m such a self-obsessed ho’.

It think it just finally hit me today that we are humpty-dumpty. And I just hope we can be put all back together again. Preferably without too many cracks that show.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Hump de Bump. RHCP. Livin’ in a citadel. It’s hot enough to be yourself. Waiting for the bell to toll. And I am wide awake now.

PS: I finally posted the ASS CANCER LUV links here. We caved and went with one of the cancer help sites that has a really rockin’ calendar application (see HELP! I need somebody...) and Feed me, Seymour is the direct hit for food/cooking sign up. Then for those who have been begging me for something to do, there’s another space to contribute to the food effort if you don’t want to cook: Seriously, I can't cook (or drive 2,000+ miles to deliver said meal). xoxo one and all. I wouldn’t be upright without you and I’m staying upright for two-to-four now. [INSERT big shiny smile through tears].