October 08, 2005
Yesterday was surreal; even now it feels like it was happening to someone else. The doctor prescribed some Xanax for us to use to lessen the anxiety of the situation. Around 7 we each took one full tablet. I know that it made me feel vague and floaty, which given the circumstance wasn't pleasant. Still I couldn't get worked up about it so I guess the stuff works.
I think we both were hoping that this morning we'd wake up and everything would be fine, that yesterday would have just been some awful nightmare. But today is here, and the nightmare is real. Neither of us knows how to act or what to do, if the disease is far enough along to have destroyed bone mass, one has to wonder what else it has compromised.
In the light of a new day, with this horrible knowledge, we are beginning to understand that her DUB and menorraghia, and her IBS may in fact not be just those simple things, but rather interconnected pieces of this cancer.
Today we are going to stay close to home; with her leg so painful (and with the jeopardy of it breaking very real) there really isn't any place she can go safely or comfortably. We'll watch movies, cry, and talk. We both recognize at a deep level that expressing our true emotions, no matter how outrageous, is the only way forward with this.