(no subject)

I've been having strangely detailed dreams lately. It shouldn't surprised me, considering the stress I'm experiencing on just about all levels. The dreams don't freak me out, or frighten me (so far, at least). If anything, they feel oddly comforting, like a part of myself is coming back or waking up.

The only distress I've had in a dream recently is realizing I was in a public place (art show followed by Scott Walker (the musician, not the Repub governor who stole his name)talking and performing while a presentation about preserving the environment was being given in a space behind the stage), and that no one was wearing masks, me included. That was probably my waking mind starting to take over.

It could be the change of weather. I often sleep better in cooler temperatures, and it's been in the 50s at night here for the past several days. I haven't turned the heat on, so it's been ideal sleeping weather.

I've more to say that I'm not quite ready to write about publicly. Soon, though, I think.

(no subject)

"I've known for some time that cancer will probably be what kills her, it's only a question of when. Last week we got some information on when, and it's closer than we'd like."

I've practiced versions of that in my head for months, trying it on for authenticity, honesty, and accuracy. Last week was the first time I shared these words with a friend. I think opening myself to the sincere regret of others is the hardest part so far.

J's doing surprisingly OK. In her own words, she worries more about me than herself. We're quite the pair, as it's the same for me, only in reverse.

In more concrete terms: the cancer has moved to her lungs. According to her oncologist, this takes the likely prognosis from "average of 36 months" to "within a year". She's scheduled to join a clinical trial starting soon, and continues to see doctors to try to make life better and longer. J's a fighter, and tougher than just about anyone I know. I take my cues from her, and focus on the good parts of all of this.

I suspect that I've lived under the shadow of the possibility of her death for almost five years, ever since she aspirated in her sleep (chemo side effects no one warned us about) and I couldn't wake her up. For three days I lived at Grady, waiting for her to wake up, and eventually she did. Ever since I've been worried and on guard. I will watch her sleep at times, to make sure her breathing is deep and regular. I know how to navigate tiredness, struggles with finding words, physical unsteadiness, bad memory, and the increased tendency to drop things. It's all a part of the price I've accepted as more than worthy.

I'm sad, but I'm not broken. I'm scared, but not petrified. I'm not angry, which is more than a little surprising. I do worry that at some point, all of the emotions I don't feel now, that I expect and maybe fear feeling, will all come rushing back at once. If they do, I will have my obligations to our cats to keep me going.

As I said to my boss today, everyone is dying, it's only a question of how quickly. That feels deeply descriptive for me right now.