Oddly the pathology report hit me almost as hard as the original diagnosis. Only a little of my energy is spent on wondering why that is. The rest is focused on getting centered again.
“The Pony” is in the people who have circled around us and are supporting us with love, and food. “The Pony” is employers who are accommodating both of us and our struggle.  “The Pony” is the visiting Nurses Brigade. “The Pony” is the Surgeon, one of the States best, who seems to almost be taking this cancer as a personal affront. “The Pony” is the Oncologist, full of piss and vinegar, who believes there is no room for ego in the exam room. I am humbled by this all. I am a very private person, perhaps even shy, and so I would not expect this kind of outpouring. “The Pony” is lifetime partner who sparkles and lights up the room and draws friends and family and love to her and so vicariously I get to learn about these things.
I have struggled with the surgery, rather quietly, because I didn’t want to be the Eeyore to P’s Winne-the-Pooh. But, I’m not happy with this disease, at times I’m angry, and it is a struggle to point that anger in the right direction. The disfigurment that the disease has caused my buddy and lover SUCKS. The amputation of a breast is important to remove the cancerous cells, the Surgeon is a craftswoman, but it is an amputation all the same and it SUCKS.  Watching chemo kick her ass, SUCKED. Knowing that she will possibly have a couple of numb toes, perhaps fingers, for the rest of her life as a side effect of the next round of chemo, SUCKS. Knowing that we likely won’t escape radiation SUCKS.
I’m willing to eat this shit sandwich and ask for seconds, however, if in the end I get to spend more time with this amazing woman.
Sigh.
Will you marry me?
B,
P is very lucky to have you. I understand that this whole journey is extremely difficult for you, too. Kudos to you for riding with with P, and not going solo riding off into a beautiful sunset leaving P to saunter along the path alone. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I know some who have done just that. Keep your eye on P’s ball, ride her pony, and help her through. You will be both be stronger and wiser because of this journey. Chew away, my friend, chew away. Hopefully, very soon, you’ll be eating something much yummier.
Jill
I think you’ve heard this response before: SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
My sister used to say: “I’ll kick and scream…” when she was little, to try to get whatever she wanted because certainly no one would want to endure the spectacle of this shy, self-conscious child kicking and screaming… I am kicking and screaming, here, B.
P knows I am rarely at a loss for words, but at the moment I just want to kick and scream.
We all will pony up because it impossible NOT to love your buddy and lover… But I’m with you: ENOUGH, already with this disease. Let’s kick it’s butt.
Tough news. We can’t pretend to feel things exactly as you feel them here, but we do understand how it feels to ride up what you believe to be the last hill with your final burst of energy, only to see another hill ahead. Good for P, keeping her head, weighing her options and moving forward right away. Good for you B, to express your anger and frustration and get back on the horse with her. You do have what it takes to climb another hill, and together, the two of you, and all of the rest of us will see this thing through.
Love,
R and D
Like I said earlier, you love her like a rock, LittleSysiphus!
Get centered, get mad, eat shit and keep being your amazing woman’s prize pony. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in either of your shoes, but if I find myself there someday, I hope I handle it as gracefully, honestly and well as you two have. As R said, you have what it takes to stay on the horse and we’ll be right there beside you.
Love, Sarah
I am really glad you have each other through this ordeal…and I am sad to know you are all in such pain…this cancer-thing does SUCK…
you’re doing great!
sometimes the best it gets is that we watch the dark road in front of us, do the one step at a time shuffle & await the dawn…
Actually, it’s Jenny responding under deedie’s logon.
I love you both so much it hurts. In my class today, my students were talking–in a whole other context–about how hard it is to help the people you love when they’re in trouble. Not knowing the words to say, or how to say them. Or what to do.
Me I think the thing is just to keep showing up.
One thing I know d. and I both experienced when we went through “The Troubles’ here back in the day was the feeling that the rest of the world had gotten very far away. Sometimes I don’t care about the rest of the world, but I know that sometimes I just got–and get– really weary of having this THING in the middle of our lives, and I miss the careless, feckless life of lying around like everybody else. IT’s all exhausting, on top of the eight million other ways there are of being worn down.
I do not know if love cures everything, but if anything does, love does, and if any family has it, it’s you. And so, in some ways, you all continue to be the luckiest family I know, for the love you have for each other, and the love you inspire in your friends.
Hang in there, keep fighting, and know you are loved. And we will try to keep showing up. Ride’em cowboys. And girls.