Someone Get Me A Band-Aid Before I Fall On My Fuckin' Face

 Entry 1     2:24 p.m.

This morning I told Jenny I would send an email to the oncologist, letting him know she is passing blood. She had been for a couple of days, and she had reached out to the oncology nurse, who said because it was red it was probably nothing to worry about. Today, after Jenny reported to me that her stool was black and tar-like, I reached out to them. Jenny told me that no matter what she was going to go to her psychedelic therapy, that the onc nurse would just tell her to go to the ER, and she wasn't going to do that. So, I didn't bother checking after she left, what was the point? What happened, however, is that for the first time ever, the RN responded right away, saying she tried to reach me (my phone never rang, she probably called

Jenny) and that Jenny needed to get to the ER right away. By the time I checked my phone, Jenny was already gone, in her session and tripping balls. So, I reached out to Murray, with whom I spoke with this morning for the first time since I discovered the affair (it was unavoidable, I was short and clipped). I texted all that I knew, asked her to take Jenny straight to the ER when she finished, and also asked her not to tell Jenny while she was on her "journey" as termed by the psychedelic nurse. I got crickets in response. So, I reached out to Moni and Jeanne and both of them texted Murray, stating same. I sent Murray a scathing text a couple of days after I found the pictures of Jenny embracing Eric in September of 2020, photos clearly taken by Murray at her home. I suspect she blocked my number after that, preferring to continue to live her life of unreality and denial that she is harming my girls and me. Anyway, I will meet Jenny in the ER, and hopefully she will get hydrated and they will determine she isn't bleeding all over the place. Every time I think this can't get worse, the gods of chaos conspire to confound me.

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