Cancer sucks.

Have I mentioned lately how much cancer sucks? Yeah, I thought not.

In the early months after Michael was diagnosed, I used to blog a lot more about the emotional aspects of his having cancer, the fallout on the entire family. But as I've said, Michael doesn't like starring in my blog. He's a rather private person, apparently in possession of a lot more dignity than I have. Every once in a while, he'll say to me, "Sooooo . . . I read your blog today . . ." and I go, "Uh oh . . ." because I know he's probably going to tell me how he didn't appreciate my putting this or that on my blog. So I've backed off, out of respect for my husband.

And I do respect him a great deal, but you know what? Cancer sucks. And I'm going to unload a little here tonight. Call it my Master Cleanse if you will. I'll try to just stick to my shit and leave him out of it.

Did I mention that cancer sucks?

It's taking a real toll on us. On our happy marriage. We'll pull through this, I believe that with all my heart, but the truth is, we're in a sort of rough patch right now. How could we not be? Tempers flare a lot more often lately than they used to. Speaking for myself, I just seem to reach my breaking point more and more often. It's been months and months and months that my husband has been sick now, and I often feel alone. Like I've lost him on some level, because so much of his energy necessarily goes into withstanding treatment. I miss having a full-time compadre.

And when he's sick, pretty much everything falls on my shoulders. I'm not looking for pity. Just sayin', it's not easy. In fact, it's pretty fucking hard.

And I think what it comes down to is lack of support (and I have no intention of starting up that shitstorm again - if you don't like what I'm saying, stuff it). And I'm not talking about the conditional support that's only available if you're willing to unconditionally put up with someone's shit. That's not support in my book. Enough said about that. I'm just saying, you know, nobody really to fall back on. Michael's laid up in bed? It's not like I have a mother to call and say "Hey, Mom, can you come over and make dinner for us tonight?" or "Can you take the kids for a day?" (Okay, yes, I do have a mother, technically, but she and I are strangers to one another and she's not someone I would even trust with my kids.)

I have some wonderful friends who have given endless moral support and occasionally other kinds of help as well, and for that I'm eternally grateful. I'm not discounting that. I know I'd be in a much, much worse place without that.

I'm just saying . . . I don't know what I'm saying. That this is really, really hard. It's hard to watch your partner in life diminish with illness. To not be able to do anything at all to make it easier or better, and all the while, still have to hold down the fort, often alone. It's a huge, huge task, and one that I often feel I'm not suited for.

Sometimes I think about Nancy Reagan and how she cared for Ronnie all those years when he became a complete invalid - when he no longer even recognized her! And I think, "God, I suck, because I just don't think I could do it."

I guess what I've learned about myself through all this is that I'm really not a very strong person. Certainly not stoic. I mean, sometimes I think, "I've survived so much in my life, I can survive anything." But in the midst of it, I fold and lose my temper and crumple up in tears. And then feel like shit.

But we're finally approaching the final leg of this whole ugly mess. It can only go up from here, right?