Boredom, Party of Two

The worst thing about cancer?  The monotony.  With cancer you get into a routine.  Chemo, after chemo, side-effects, healing, check-up, rest, and then chemo again.  You see the same people in the same places over and over.  As much as you may like them, and we do, you get sick of seeing their faces. 

The pills, the fatigue, the laying around feeling bad, it never goes away.  I ask Michael if he's ok about 329 times a day.  I don't mean to, I know he gets tired of being asked, but then he'll wince or groan and the phrase pops out again.  "You ok?" 

It kills me to see my husband struggle with his battle against cancer.  I can cook, clean, transport, converse, and try to lift his spirits, but when it comes to actually fighting the cancer I'm like a third tit - useless.  I don't want to sound like I'm complaining.  What I have to go through is nothing compared to what he is going through.  But damn, this sucks!  It's like standing on the shore of an ocean watching him drown.  I can't jump in and save him.  I can only stand there and watch.

But the very worst part is being keenly aware of how much is going on around us, and how much we are missing.  We had a friend visit from California.  We were invited to attend church with a friend's family.  My niece had her first cheer leading gig.  There was a brunch we were invited to.  All these fun things..... passing us by as we hide in the house.  Germs, especially those that cling to children, must be avoided at all costs. 

Staying at home all the time is so damn boring.  We can only play so many games, only watch so many TV shows and movies, only walk around the house so many times before we flop down in frustration and just stew in boredom.   You want to feel the passage of time?  Get cancer. 

It's no one's fault, I'm not playing a blame game here.  This is what we need to do in order for him to get better, so we'll do it. 


I'm so proud of Michael, he has stayed the course in regards to positive thinking.  We try to laugh as often as possible.  I do what I can to make him happy, comfortable, warm, and fed.  We love each other and enjoy the company.  But gads, when will this end?

Cancer takes your life and stomps on it with cleats, chops up what's left, puts it in a blender, drinks it down, and then poops it out right at your feet. 

Every.  Week.

We want to be able to go to a crowded area and not have to worry about germs.  We want to go out without people looking at him and asking, "You ok?" We want to spend time with our friends and family.  We want to get back to roller derby.  We just want our life back.

We are in a good position and I realize that.  We are not fighting a losing battle.  We will beat this thing.  Many won't.  I try to keep that in mind.  I try to remember that we are lucky.  When I'm climbing up the walls and flipping through the TV channels, done with laundry, done with cleaning, done with all the "put off" projects I've done, just DONE, I try to remember that.

We are halfway through.  Only 4 more chemo treatments before the routine changes.  I know we can do this.  And once this is over, if you see two people running around St. Louis like chickens with their heads cut off, it's us.