FU

It’s chemo weekend. The infusion pump returns and the nasty drug called 5-FU. Yesterday to the oncology center for several hours then home to the visiting chemo nurse who hooks John up to the pump. These two days the chemo pet we call FU lives on John and dominates our lives. It is tiring. Tiring for him, yes and tiring for me. I am running. To work, then to the oncology center, then home, back to work, then to my night class. Groceries? Dry cleaner? Postage?

Today I feel resentful and then guilty for feeling resentful. I want to take a breath. I want to shop for shoes. I miss my life and I am afraid of losing myself. I want to be able to rest or be spontaneous; I want to call a friend. All I am aware of is what is not done: laundry, groceries. He cannot go to the grocery store or open the fridge because of the reaction to cold. I don’t want to eat and I don’t want to cook but he needs to eat.

What is hard is to sort out what is really him and what is really me versus what is cancer and chemo. Maybe he’d be this selfish anyway? Maybe I’d be this pissed anyway? It’s so hard to step back and see the good. I’m trying to remember who he was before cancer. Was he a nicer person then? Was I?

All I can think of today is FU.