No More Waltzing Matilda With Me

 Entry 1.  11:17 p.m.

Jenny used the walker today, to great success. She actually could go to the pharmacy at the back of Bartell's, something unthinkable two days ago.  This is a simple bittersweet success, and she and I are very happy about it. I can worry less about her falling, and she can go places and rest along the way.

When I was with Jenny at VM in December, Jenny asked Dr. P what the side effects of GTX would be.  He said she might get dry hands and feet, feel a bit nauseous and could get sores in her mouth. Today, the chemo nurse called to check with Jenny on how the taking the chemo pills was going and to answer any questions. During the call, she told Jenny she would lose all her hair.  Fucking Dr. P. The sin of omission is real.

Entry 2    12:18 p.m.

I am working. In a meeting right now, in fact.  I am struggling on focus at work these days, and strongly am considering taking a leave of absence, given all that is going on.  I did it 17 months ago, for 5 weeks.  But, I am exhausted, worn out. I am emotionally spent. All of this is weighing on me. The sickness, suffering and impending death of Jenny is a lot, just with regard to her. The kids are also a great concern.  I feel like I am carrying the weight of Atlas on my shoulders. 

My sister called this morning, urging me to get away this weekend. I told her the story of Jenny being enraged that I won't snuggle with her at night, during the course of the conversation. I noted that I have been alone for this entire time, and longer--the distance between us that existed before I discovered the affair, that began years ago, was not solely my doing. I hadn't believed it was, but I attributed our lack of fighting--we still fought (and I presume some of those fights were manufactured so she could leave and see el pinché), but it was greatly diminished. While I felt we were distant, I had thought the reduction in controversy was a reflection of mending. I thought we were dysfunctional, but not self-destructing. My sister expressed disbelief--well she believed it but it wasn't shock or dismay so let's stick with disbelief--that Jenny could be so unaware of how her actions and this demand would cut me so cruelly. I don't have an answer. I just don't. But, it is the weight I bear. 

The most disappointing part of the conversation, however, is when my sister said that Jenny has always put herself first.  If true, and I could go through the litany of ways in which that has been true, but will just say the entire California debacle is totemic in that regard, I have been a fool for so long that all of this feels much more like my failings than her shortcomings. Had I put data into a supercomputer on how our lives had been to see where we were going, all the permutations would include this factor. Jenny's behavior was predictable, as was my blindness to it. 

So, here I sit worrying about the loss of her hair, the sadness she will feel when it starts to fall out. I felt a pang of nausea when she asked me about shaving her head last night, thinking back to how this all was discovered. 

Struggled through multiple work meetings today, busy.  Just after 4, Jenny texted the kids and me telling us we were having rice and eggs for dinner with broccoli, unless someone had a better idea. Mind you, she was NEVER going to make dinner.  She just couldn't. I was puzzled both about the menu choice, and why she sent a text about dinner at this time. I wrapped up my last meeting just before 5, and Leiney popped her head in and asked if rice and eggs is what I want for dinner. I said no, it isn't. At all. She suggested we go downstairs and discuss with Jenny. We get downstairs and Jenny is there with her friend Amelia, who drove up from Olympia for a couple hours. Jenny tells us that she and A are going to the store, and Jenny is bringing her walker, an excellent plan. Leiney suggests we have something else for dinner and offers to go shopping for the food. I suggest getting a frozen lasagna. Everyone is completely and not unfairly grossed out by the idea. Leiney volunteers that she can make it.  Jenny suggests nachos. We all agree and Jenny tells Leiney she wants to go shopping to get out of the house, and off to the store Jenny and Amelia go.  

Arriving home, Jenny tells me that going to the store in her walker was a great success. But she is clearly unhappy. So, I ask, is everything ok?  Everything, I learned is not ok. She has a litany of complaints, but the two that were on top of the list were that she had to come up with a dinner idea.  She just had chemotherapy, so that has put her in a mood, to be sure.  This whole dinner idea thing has been a running complaint--one that is not relatively meritless, but completely so--for several years. Since I cook any meal that is going to be cooked, with the exception of the kids stepping up like Leiney did tonight, this complaint is in my estimation an excuse to direct her anger somewhere. I am the convenient target. I am exhausted. Dead fucking tired. I want California beaches, sun, sand and really, I just want this:

The Hotel Del, on the beach in San Diego.