In September things started going downhill. My sweetie still felt well enough that he wanted to do the laundry, but climbing back up the stairs was taking it out of him. He'd make it back into the apartment and collapse on the couch, completely winded and needing to rest. Me and our friends downstairs (the dungeon master and his wife) wanted him to let us help him - at least let one of us carry the basket up and down - and he dismissed the idea. As long as he was able to, he wanted to do things on his own. Still, it was obviously wearing him out and he was spending more and more time napping on the couch.
Early one morning I woke up hearing a chainsaw. I grumbled and tried to go back to sleep, but no dice - the chainsaw just kept going. WIIIiiiiinnnGGGGwiiiiinnnngggggugugugh.... I put the pillow over my head trying to muffle it. Nope, no good. Finally, frustrated, I threw the covers back and got out of bed to investigate. I looked out the living room window and saw nothing. I remember complaining about it to my sweetie who was sitting on the couch watching tv and apparently hadn't even noticed it. Grumpy and bleary eyed, I went out to the kitchen and threw open the back door... and saw a guy in our backyard hollering instructions to another guy (with a chainsaw) in a cherry picker. Apparently the neighbors behind us had decided to cut down the tree that was on the border of our yards. It was a mess and there were branches all over our yard. I hollered to my sweetie to come look and when we both stepped out onto the balcony, the guy who was hollering instructions noticed us and cheerfully asked if we had been having trouble with our phone. "Nope", we said, "we don't even use the phone lines." So that was it...they decided to chop the whole tree down because one of the branches had grown around a phone line. *sigh* We loved that tree - it blocked the house behind us from view and gave the yard a little shade. In no time flat it was nothing but a stump and our yard felt a lot less private. The guy then asked if it would be ok to haul the branches out through our driveway. "Yep, fine. Just don't fuck up our swimming pool." The guy promised he'd be careful and we went back inside.
About a week later we decided summer was officially over, emptied the pool and packed it back into it's box. We also dismantled the deck garden and hauled the flower pots, chairs and shade umbrella down to the garage. I noticed that he was piling the pots on the floor off to the side instead of putting them up on the shelf where we normally kept them - and that's when I knew it was starting to get bad. He was a tall guy, and always took advantage of high spaces for storage. Our entire time together, I was always having to ask him to please get this bowl down for me, or reach up and change that light bulb. Tall guy stuff. Now it hurt for him to raise his arms over his head repeatedly, but he'd still grab the mixing bowl for me if I needed it. I could see it hurt though, and tried not to bother him with it if I could. Apparently it bothered him more to see me climbing the counter because he'd fetch it before I reached it and then help me back down again.
His family members were coming over a lot more frequently - his mom, dad, sister and his cousin. They all came over separately and they would sit around making pleasant conversation or snap some photos of him - then as soon as he was out of earshot they'd ask me in hushed tones how he was doing and tell me how brave and strong I was to deal with this. Inwardly I bristled at this. I did not consider myself to be brave or strong at all - I was terrified and anxious. I could keep it together when I was at home with him, but when I was alone in my car running errands, I'd lose it completely and cry my eyes out. I started keeping a box of tissue in the car just so I could dry my eyes when I got where I was going or returned home. I didn't want anyone to see me crying. I didn't want to be pitied. But here they were, doing just that. His dad would come over and buy us lunch, when his sister came over she brought coffee. His mom brought whatever item she happened to come across that she thought he could use - things like hot beverage heaters. She also decided that she was going to redecorate her living room and gave us her electric fireplace which we gratefully accepted. It's got an oak mantle and also works as a space heater. The dungeon master and my sweetie hauled it upstairs. I offered to help carry but my sweetie said 'no - he'd get it' - so typical of him. Part of me wonders if he wasn't trying to make a point with his mom - "I'm not dead yet! Quit trying to baby me!" She had been trying to fawn over him ever since his diagnosis and acting like a bit of a martyr while she did so. I think it was as annoying to him as it was to me.
His cousin was the daughter of his mothers oldest sister and they practically grew up together. Her parents have a place in Marine on the St. Croix - a beautiful house on the bluff along the river. They also have a pontoon boat, and his cousin asked us if we wanted to go out for a boat ride. We both like boat rides and jumped at the chance. I brought the camera along and took pictures of the scenery and my sweetie as we were enjoying the ride, but it was a chilly day and we set out late, so we didn't stay out very long. She promised she'd take us back out again though, before they pulled the boat out of the water for the season - hopefully it would be a warmer day, and we promised that we would hold her to it. Back at her parents house, her mom had gotten out her camera and there was more photos being taken. Then we hopped in the car and I drove us back home.
A week or so later, and it was time for another scan to be done. He had to drink another bottle of what he called the nastiest orange shake drink he'd ever tasted, and then we had to wait for enough of it to circulate through him before they did the scan. I remember sitting there and foolishly hoping against hope that the results wouldn't be bad. When the scan was finished, they set an appointment for him to see his oncologist and get the results on October 1st. Neither of us spoke about it on the ride back home. We talked about anything but doctors, tests and results.
No comments:
Post a Comment