It finally hit
Tuesday, after the biopsy but before the diagnosis, my boss told me I was going to be alright. I almost got mad at her. I told her I didn't care about me, it wasn't about me.
When I sat there with Tammy and heard the diagnosis I was surprised but not overwhelmed. I had protected myself with optimism and the blind assurance that God was keeping it easy.
I stayed optimistic and strong because I needed to make sure that Tammy did. It would do her no good to see me shaken or upset or scared. It needs to be 100 percent about her. I had to split for a couple hours to square things away at work and while I was alone in the car I allowed myself to be shaken. And I was still shaken while telling my boss what we learned. It was okay this time I figured, as long as I wasn't putting any strain on Tammy.
We went to other appointments and we learned what was going to happen and what we could expect in the coming months. Everything that you read and hear about cancer was suddenly applying to us.
I still have to get used to the word "cancer". When I told people I said "It" was "malignant", I wouldn't even go so far as to call it "the c word". I'd call it the tumor, but I needed to face that it was "cancer"
Tammy stayed with her folks last night and I was alone in Olympia. I was able to relax some but obviously this will be the number one thing on my mind for a long time. My emotions were indescribable: for 15 seconds I'd be stoic, the next 15 seconds scared, the next 15 snarky, the next 15 cruelly indifferent, then back to scared for another 15 seconds...and sometimes two or more would mix and clash at once. That's how it's been.
I knew Tammy was going to come home with a haircut. Many people do that when they know they're going to lose their hair to chemo. Years ago she asked me what I would like her to do with her hair and I said "do whatever you want, just don't cut it short." Today I wasn't thinking that line would be on her mind.
She came home and I was surprised, truly and pleasantly surprised, that I liked it. She could've done it on her own last year and I would've liked it. She looks great!
But it was also then that it fully sunk in and hit me just how serious this is, and how much more serious it's going to get, and how it's not going to just up and fizzle away in the next couple days. It finally hit just how dangerous, how...deadly this is. And no matter how positive and optimistic everyone, including the doctors, are there's no getting around the fact that the "what ifs" are valid whatifs.
This isn't supposed to be about me, and I don't want people worrying about how I'm doing, but I'm scared. Tammy's my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. She's not done one thing in her life to deserve this. She has a future planned. She's only 27. She is every last thing that matters to me.
When I sat there with Tammy and heard the diagnosis I was surprised but not overwhelmed. I had protected myself with optimism and the blind assurance that God was keeping it easy.
I stayed optimistic and strong because I needed to make sure that Tammy did. It would do her no good to see me shaken or upset or scared. It needs to be 100 percent about her. I had to split for a couple hours to square things away at work and while I was alone in the car I allowed myself to be shaken. And I was still shaken while telling my boss what we learned. It was okay this time I figured, as long as I wasn't putting any strain on Tammy.
We went to other appointments and we learned what was going to happen and what we could expect in the coming months. Everything that you read and hear about cancer was suddenly applying to us.
I still have to get used to the word "cancer". When I told people I said "It" was "malignant", I wouldn't even go so far as to call it "the c word". I'd call it the tumor, but I needed to face that it was "cancer"
Tammy stayed with her folks last night and I was alone in Olympia. I was able to relax some but obviously this will be the number one thing on my mind for a long time. My emotions were indescribable: for 15 seconds I'd be stoic, the next 15 seconds scared, the next 15 snarky, the next 15 cruelly indifferent, then back to scared for another 15 seconds...and sometimes two or more would mix and clash at once. That's how it's been.
I knew Tammy was going to come home with a haircut. Many people do that when they know they're going to lose their hair to chemo. Years ago she asked me what I would like her to do with her hair and I said "do whatever you want, just don't cut it short." Today I wasn't thinking that line would be on her mind.
She came home and I was surprised, truly and pleasantly surprised, that I liked it. She could've done it on her own last year and I would've liked it. She looks great!
But it was also then that it fully sunk in and hit me just how serious this is, and how much more serious it's going to get, and how it's not going to just up and fizzle away in the next couple days. It finally hit just how dangerous, how...deadly this is. And no matter how positive and optimistic everyone, including the doctors, are there's no getting around the fact that the "what ifs" are valid whatifs.
This isn't supposed to be about me, and I don't want people worrying about how I'm doing, but I'm scared. Tammy's my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. She's not done one thing in her life to deserve this. She has a future planned. She's only 27. She is every last thing that matters to me.