Selfish and Dreadful

I’m at that weird stage where things are constantly stressful and I dare not say or write anything about it for fear that I might set the cosmos against me. I want to be excited that Jason feels better after this morning when he was feeling sick and was starting to cramp – better enough to go to the gym tonight – but instead I feel sick and my heart hurts in fear that we’ll end up at the hospital yet again.

I have this running “joke” (that’s not really a joke at all, but more my way of making light of all the gravity around me) with the corporate trainer that comes by monthly to check in on our fitness levels and diet. She’s “bad luck”. You see, the night before she comes to see us I have been in the hospital. Of course, it’s not the only time in the month I’m in the hospital, but it’s a strange coincidence that it has been every Tuesday prior to my Wednesday appointment for the past 9 months. I am filled with dread that this will be the case yet again. Dread, I tell you. Dread.

When I came back from Charlotte this past Thursday, I ready to hit the gym straight from the airport. I at least had the sense to try and get in touch with my husband, but no one picked up. After three tries, a co-worker picked up Jason’s phone and informed me that he went to the ER. So, instead of the gym I went directly to the hospital. Of course, there’s not much they can do at this time. They’re still going back-and-forth over removing Jason’s spleen.

That Thursday, Jason went down to the liver folks for clinic and was seen by their gastroenterologist. The GI docs all want to take out Jason’s spleen. The surgeons feel that the risks and complications are too great since there is no clear or consistent indication that this is the treatment needed. The liver people have their hands up in the air. The problem is that no one’s seen a case like J’s. So, the GI docs are taking Jason’s case to a larger, national panel of specialists to see if there are any cases to help make their case, or at least something that can give us a better indication of a different treatment since going to the ER almost weekly just won’t fly.

So, here I am, selfishly panicking over going to the ER again; selfish because it pains me to see Jason go through this. I cannot relate to the type of pain he’s going through, nor the extreme tolerance he has built up for the pain meds. I want to, but I cannot and should not. I can only be there for him. I know it’s all I can do, and yet it doesn’t feel like enough… like I’m supposed to absorb some of this pain for him. And then there are the times when I am intolerant to what is happening, or ignorant to the fact that he is in pain all damned day long. Yet he goes on, he lives his life, he jams in as much normalcy and fun as possible