First, I want to say that Roberto is doing slightly better now. Roberto sleeps for most of the day now and he's not vomiting any more but there's still some dry heaving. Perhaps the new anti-nausea medication is working? He still not eating enough for a grown man: a couple of peaches, a yogurt and a cup of broth. That's for the whole day; I doubt that would get me through lunch. The win, though, is that he's keeping all those calories instead of throwing them up.
Second, I cried today. I cried a big cry. Surprisingly (maybe?), this was only the second time I cried since we learned about Roberto's cancer. This is coming from someone who tears up at movies and corny reality TV shows. The thing that pushed me over the edge wasn't the huge pile of laundry mocking my laziness or me cracking my beloved glass coffee pot on the counter. It was receiving a friendly call from our wedding caterer asking about our final payment.
It surprised me that I started crying during the phone call to explain, yet again, that I had to postpone the wedding since I had done it so many times before. Hearing the surprise and shock from the co-owner of the catering company didn't help me either and I barely made it to the end of the call.
I felt so guilty crying over the wedding when Roberto has to endure so much suffering, but there I was grabbing tissue after tissue to wipe the tears away. As I laid on the couch in the fetal position with tears running down my face, I realized that I had been courageous for Roberto, family, and friends but, maybe, I forgot to save some courage for myself.
I'm sure I was crying for more than simply the wedding. There's the stress of watching Roberto be sick for an entire week; helping him emotionally deal with anxiety about chemotherapy; the sleepless nights when he has difficulty sleeping; and running from one medical appointment to another. Then there's the times when my brain wanders into the "what if" zone. What if the chemotherapy doesn't work? What if something goes wrong in the surgery? What if the cancer comes back and is harder to treat?
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I had a lot on my mind. I had a lot of stored up emotion that hadn't been properly expressed or even felt. It was good to have that big cry and to let out all the sadness and worry.
I'm sure it'll be difficult to believe me now when I say, "I'm doing fine. No, really, I'm fine. Seriously, I'm okay. Stop looking at me like that." I think it would be more worrisome if I didn't cry at all or at least convey some fears or worries. Also, I know this post is sad in a generally positive blog, but this is my way to let you all know that I'm NOT in denial about the whole thing even though I'm using humor as a defense mechanism (it's my courage shield).
Breaking that coffee pot really did upset me, though, so I think it's time for some retail therapy.
Second, I cried today. I cried a big cry. Surprisingly (maybe?), this was only the second time I cried since we learned about Roberto's cancer. This is coming from someone who tears up at movies and corny reality TV shows. The thing that pushed me over the edge wasn't the huge pile of laundry mocking my laziness or me cracking my beloved glass coffee pot on the counter. It was receiving a friendly call from our wedding caterer asking about our final payment.
It surprised me that I started crying during the phone call to explain, yet again, that I had to postpone the wedding since I had done it so many times before. Hearing the surprise and shock from the co-owner of the catering company didn't help me either and I barely made it to the end of the call.
I felt so guilty crying over the wedding when Roberto has to endure so much suffering, but there I was grabbing tissue after tissue to wipe the tears away. As I laid on the couch in the fetal position with tears running down my face, I realized that I had been courageous for Roberto, family, and friends but, maybe, I forgot to save some courage for myself.
I'm sure I was crying for more than simply the wedding. There's the stress of watching Roberto be sick for an entire week; helping him emotionally deal with anxiety about chemotherapy; the sleepless nights when he has difficulty sleeping; and running from one medical appointment to another. Then there's the times when my brain wanders into the "what if" zone. What if the chemotherapy doesn't work? What if something goes wrong in the surgery? What if the cancer comes back and is harder to treat?
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I had a lot on my mind. I had a lot of stored up emotion that hadn't been properly expressed or even felt. It was good to have that big cry and to let out all the sadness and worry.
I'm sure it'll be difficult to believe me now when I say, "I'm doing fine. No, really, I'm fine. Seriously, I'm okay. Stop looking at me like that." I think it would be more worrisome if I didn't cry at all or at least convey some fears or worries. Also, I know this post is sad in a generally positive blog, but this is my way to let you all know that I'm NOT in denial about the whole thing even though I'm using humor as a defense mechanism (it's my courage shield).
Breaking that coffee pot really did upset me, though, so I think it's time for some retail therapy.
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