Slip Sliding Away

 Entry 1     1:28 p.m.

If you've ever listened to The Whole of the Moon by Mike Scott, I can say that there were times when I felt that way about someone. I was invariably wrong, driven by myth, mystery and the desire to be in love like in the movies, I suppose. And, I can say with certainty today, the one person that really understood the world in the same way I do, was of little use to me. I ran as fast and as far as I could. Humans, who can understand them. I wander blindly, seeing no better than the blind king. Oedipus discovers his truth and blinds himself. Before that, he was blind to the truth, but could see the world. Is there a middle-ground?

Yesterday was a bit much.  Jennifer was here. For reasons only fucking god knows, they thought it would be a good idea to let Willow loose in the yard sans harness. Hijinx, as you have probably guessed, ensued.

Last night, I needed extra calming medicine. Remember those birthday cards I discovered while getting something from Jenny's nightstand. Well, in tandem therapy last night, I mentioned that I felt tension coming from Jenny for the last few days, and suggested it might just be my imagination. Jenny, as she always does with regard to Eric el pinché, announced, "This may upset you," I wanted to tell you yesterday but.  .   . I am going to dinner tomorrow night with Eric to celebrate his birthday. Since her birthday is next week, one can assume that fact simply slipped her mind, or she is so el pinché-centric that his birthday is all that matters. I held my shit together. Inside, turmoil. I am so tired of this shit. She had just waxed poetic about how well I treat her--she had expressed concern last week that care would drop off now that I discovered she and el pinché were still an item (the last point a fact she still adamantly denies, but is clear from every action they take).  The therapist asked her if that concern had manifested, and she admitted it hadn't. If you only knew the indignities the poor woman suffers that I help her with and through. 

So, my blood was boiling. I closed my eyes, took some deep breaths, and soldiered onward. I was over being angry, albeit still not okay with this madness, but did decant with a friend over text into the evening. My personal therapist explained to me that when a relationship partner is bullshitting, lying, and gaslighting you, or is just not living in a reality based world, it is necessary to check in with people outside the relationship to demystify, to take a temperature check, to get back to life, back to reality as the song goes. I am fortunate to have friends to salve the wounds caused by the indignities I have to face.

The haul.

Let's digress a minute. What I am doing isn't noble. It isn't something extraordinary. It is what any person in my situation, situated exactly as I am, would do. I have been with this dying woman forever, now in our 31st year. I have two children, to whom it would fall upon to manage the house--because I would never ask her to leave (I would go first)--and Jenny. There is no world in which I would leave them to fend for her--and even though we have lots of help--they would feel obligated or guilty if they didn't step up.I know they hate the affair, but I believe firmly they would be angry with me for abandoning her. If she weren't dying, I would have left. People regularly tell me I am a saint for doing this, but I love her, love my kids, and I am as far from being a saint as Dan Quayle is from being in MENSA.  

It isn't all about sublimating or submerging the pain, hurt and anger. I am not averse to a little retail therapy.  So, in honor of another harsh el pinché winter, I indulged. My sister wanted me to buy a new car. I hate debt and spending money, so instead I opted to add to my sweater collection, useful until I can retreat to the high desert or Hawaii. J.Crew was having a massive sale, so I bought 4 sweaters and a beanie.  It felt good. That was the day after I found out about Jenny's ongoing deception. They came today, my bounty, which pleases me.

'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

--Percy Bysshe Shelley 

This too shall pass. Really, that's all Shelley needed to say. I will admit to loving the  power of the poem, however sophomoric, and have since first stumbling around fifth grade while in one of my mothers vast collection of second hand books. Last night I was angry, and after deep breathing, merely upset, and by this morning over it. Jenny's chemo and shunt have now made it impossible for her to go out tonight.

Entry 2.    8:59 p.m.

The Kaiser Home Health nurse came by to meet with Jenny and me this evening. She will be receiving services once a week. Jenny nearly collapsed, standing for less than a minute to get her blood pressure.  She is sick. 137 lbs. Skeletal. Her chemo causes terrible and humiliating digestive problems, or maybe it's the shunt.  It is just awful. The meeting was hard for me. Jenny told the RN she didn't have any problems with chemo until recently.  She has completely forgotten the hell that was visited upon her for better than 6 months at the start of this. I don't know what to think. In a spot of interesting news, the RN admonished Jenny about driving--she is not to do it.  Jenny was quiet, but I could tell clearly unhappy.