Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Bitch in the Test

Yesterday morning I left the house cursing like a cartoon character. The string of profanity coming out of my mouth was G%R&A&*^%$#!!@$!!!--and kind of like James Joyce was writing bad words—the nastiest things all strung together with no punctuation…

At work I was better outwardly but inwardly I was a mess of cranky, scared, sad and, well, just disconnected. Luckily it was Friday and luckily I had a lot of basic tasks to do. Head down and uncomfortable I worked the day away.

But still. Yuck.

John’s son came for dinner so I thought maybe it was the stepfamily stuff. It’s always hovering there in the polite way we talk and how carefully we choose our topics when together. We don’t use these words: wedding, marriage, divorce, Mom, sex or affair, and I’m the only one who will say the word cancer out loud.

And I did. That was it. After dinner John and I talked about plans for the weekend and he reminded me that Sunday plans were out because he’d be doing “The Prep” and it hit me:

His big test. The in-hospital colonoscopy, performed by our favorite surgeon is Monday morning at 7am. Oh. Dam. Oh Dam. All that cranky, out-of-sorts misery is about cancer and chemo and The Test racing toward us.

But we are a different couple three years later. And I am a different woman. I said, “Sit and talk to me.” So we bundled on the bed and talked. I said, “What if..” and he said, “It will go like this…”. And I said, “I’m going to be hard on you this time….” And he said, “I’ll listen this time…” and we laughed. And laughed. We played the “If Cancer Comes Back” Game. We talked about our voodoo beliefs and the deals with God we’ve each been making. I was happy to hear the words “beach” and “diamonds”.

Looking forward to making love tonight because Sunday is not an option. The Prep is a mess in every way with its pills and solutions and salves and timers. But the real prep began last night laughing about what used to be and what could come and how we’ll do it together.

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