The Angst Continues

Jenny apparently thinks I have treated Sheila and Jennifer Murray poorly.  At least that is what she said to Sheila. Sheila doesn't give a shit, and concurs with Jenny.  This is unbelievable. Jenny said she was surprised that I care so much.  What the hell?

I feel every visit to Jennifer Murray's, every text to Sheila or Jennifer or Eric  the pinche motherfucker is a betrayal.

Today I saw his portrait on an electrical box.  I have a fantasy of creating a bumper sticker that says this man is cheating on his wife and putting it on the box, on the front bumper of his car.

I hate that she is still seeing him and will not stop.  Its so painful.

I hate that she is sick, dying in fact, and want her to be happy.  But how do I live with this?  I love her.  I want to care for her, and want her to care for me.

She only complains about me. I saw a text complaining that I said I was going to, on occasion, be in the living room to work. I have a rolling desk.  She isn't working. I don't intend to so it while she is out there, but the room I am in is cramped and stuffy.

Just once I would love to see her say kind things about me. Just once.  I don't think she loves me. Obviously, she loves that bastard.  She says she still loves me.  She is affectionate to me, but has never a kind word about me.

One last round of Gem-Abraxane this week. Then on to the Folfiri after skipping a week.

While I took her to chemo last week, her sisters are taking her this week.  I will go to the first Folfiri appt.  She gets a CT scan that day, the first since chemotherapy started.

She goes to Murray's every Sunday for the Seahawks.  I always wonder if he is there, but don't ask. I presume he is.

She saw Eric the pinche motherfucker twice this last week, and three times the week before, that she told me.  

On Friday, she was so sick from chemo that she could barely function. I cared for her through the day, as she laid on the couch.  She rallied to go see her lover.  She put makeup on,  She has rarely,if ever, done that for me.  

Before she left, I told her the things I needed to say to her, after talking with my therapist.  I told her, "I have to stop working on the assumption that I can change this. I can't.  I love you and want to support you and care for you while you are sick, but our relationship is no longer one between a husband and wife, you love someone else, and seek affection there.  I have to accept that I'm working on separating myself from the feelings i have for you."

I said this right as she was heading out the door.  She was furious. She tried to use every mistake I made in the past to blame me, while denying she was doing it.  She tried to compare my talking to Sara with her love affair with Eric the pinche motherfucker.  I haven't slept with Sara in 29 years or seen her since we all lived in NYC.  Ultimately, she refused to accept my position and said she would have to move out.  I asked what she would tell the kids.  She said she would tell them that we weren't getting along. I told her she would have to tell them the truth or they would blame me. She told me she has discovered she can be in love with two people. She hasn't mentioned leaving since she made the idle threat.  Instead, she sent me this text on Friday evening, while laying in bed sick:

"Here's my plan. If I don't see significant progress with these two chemos- I will complete full rounds of both- but if it's not saving my life- Im not doing more. I hate the nausea and the headaches. Combined with this mess Ive created in our lives. It's easiest to just check out and not go through all this pain for me and that Im causing for you. I can't do it."

These are her two go tos. Threaten to leave, threaten to stop treatment.

My therapist agrees that these are manipulative and that I shouldn't challenge them.  So, I responded thusly:

You have to make your decisions based on what's best for you. I will support whatever you decide. I won't second guess you, or ask you to suffer so that I can have more time with you. 

She spent 4 hours with him on Friday night, went to dinner somewhere. She came home and threw it all up and went to bed. Goddamit, I felt sorry for her. I did.

Meanwhile, I continue to care for her. Yesterday, Jenny didn't get out of bed before noon and barely ate. I hounded her until she got up and agreed to go with me for a walk down to the Starbucks at Greenlake. It was cool, but sunny, a typical Seattle day.  We held hands at times. We sat in the park and were a couple, took selfies, came back home and went to the pot store to get our hilariously ridiculous medical marijuana cards, some pot derivative and a stop at a tobacco store for a vape.  We struggled all evening trying to get the distillate to work.  Dave came over and saved the day, bringing some sativa to sooth her.  

She felt terrible yesterday.  In fact, so bad that she told me again on our walk that she will stop treatment if the folfiri is this bad.

We talked on the walk, and I told her again, I wont stop her from seeing him.  If it brings her joy, she may live longer. She doesn't love me like a husband.  I'm in the friend zone. I told her again, I have to work to separate myself from her, that I am probably losing her twice, once because she loves Eric el pinche, and a second time because of the cancer.

I've seen my therapist twice in each of the last two weeks.  I won't see her this week until Friday.  That feels like an eon away.























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