It's hard.

I haven't posted here in a few days. I haven't been sure what to write. There is so much going on in my head, but it's difficult to find a balance: to respect Michael's privacy and yet fulfill my need to unload and allow people to understand what we're dealing with. Because I need to know that people are pulling for Michael and for us. Michael's not an unloader. And I know he sometimes has a hard time with my need to publicize so many aspects of our life. I do keep a private, for-my-eyes-only blog chronicling this whole cancer thing where I really unload - and that's where the most personal stuff goes. Someday I'll give it to Michael to read if he wants it. But there are still aspects of this whole thing that I have this compulsion to post here and get feedback, even if it's only well-wishes. I know nobody can really do or say anything to make going through this any easier, but it still helps to know that people understand what's going on and are at least thinking good thoughts for us.

So, the last few days have revealed a downturn of sorts. The first couple weeks of Michael's treatment, he seemed to be fairly sailing through it. I never asssumed that would last, it was just a matter of waiting for whatever side effects were going to manifest to manifest. And now they are. Minor things, really, relatively speaking. The bottoms of his feet hurt. The skin on his hands is dry and cracking. His fingertips are growing more sensitive (and don't forget he plays guitar!). He's got sores in his mouth that don't seem to want to heal and are making it difficult for him to talk and eat. The accumulation of these things are leaving him somewhat miserable. And I feel completely and utterly helpless. Honestly, it's like torture sitting by and just watching this happen to him and not being able to do a goddamn thing to make it better or easier for him.

And he's being such a good sport about it all, he really is. It's funny . . . all the times I've been pregnant and suffering through morning sickness and this ache and that pain and the fatigue, etc., and I would grow somewhat resentful that no matter how shitty I felt, I just had to keep on keeping on. There was always a household and other kids to care for. There have been so many times when I've told Michael that there's no way that he - or any man! - could handle having one single period, along with all the PMS, cramping, mood swings, etc. - let alone handle being pregnant. You know what? I'll never say or even think that again. Because what Michael is dealing with - and keeping his good humor through it - puts me to shame. I have no doubt whatsoever that if I were the one dealing with what he's dealing with, I'd be a big, giant, bitchy crybaby.

So yeah. It's really hard to sit by and feel like my hands are tied. There were a couple weeks in January, before we told anyone what was going on, when Michael was undergoing all these tests, and first it was waiting to find out if what he had was in fact CANCER. And then we found out it was. And then all the waiting for this test and that test to determine what stage it was at and how treatable. And I am here to say that that was the worst kind of hell. It was utter torture, being in the dark and having no choice but to imagine the very worst. There was so much fear in both of us during that time, so many tears, so many thoughts of death.

This is not as bad as that was - not nearly. But it's still a sort of torture. Because he has to go through this. He has to suffer the side effects. He has to do this - however shitty it makes him feel - in order to get better. And I want to help him, and I can't. I want to share the burden, and I can't.

He's not incapacitated. He's still going to work and dealing. But I know he doesn't feel great. And both of us are wondering: is it going to get worse? And he's got all this pressure to keep working. I'm sure it must suck to be going through this and have the pressure of being the breadwinner. And it's not even a question of my finding some kind of work to ease that burden for him - what am I going to do, get a job at Starbucks? And who would take care of the kids?

So anyway. I don't know. Maybe I'm making this bigger than it is in my own head. I mean, right now, as I sit here pouring out my thoughts, he's out jamming with his buddies. That's a good thing, right?