Les Miserables and an ugly cry
It's been mentioned elsenet, and I may have alluded here: Hubbyfink is going in for surgery on Tuesday morning to remove a golf ball-sized acoustic neuroma, which is a benign tumor behind his left inner ear. His balance has been deteriorating as well as his hearing and his audiologist prescribed an MRI a few weeks ago. When they found a mass, the office set up an appointment with a neurologist who confirmed our fears; although, we joked about it being an absorbed twin and they'd find hair and teeth in it.
We've been going with gallows humor during this time to keep the terror at bay.
At way too early o'clock on Tuesday morning, we'll head up to Holy Cross hospital in Maryland and he'll be under for eight hours or so while I try to distract myself with telecommuting (if the hospital has decent wifi... of course, Bossman isn't expecting me to do anything this week) or reading or wandering the hospital.
What does this have to do with Les Mis? carthew was horrified that I hadn't seen the musical movie version and scheduled a movie night for me, psalite and LJ-less Kim. I've never seen a stage production, but I did read the book in high school and have seen a couple of non-musical movie version, and I've had the original Broadway cast soundtrack. So, I'm familiar with the story and the music. Because I didn't lose it during "I Dreamed a Dream" nor Gavroche's death, I figured I'd get out of the movie with my shriveled, cold heart intact. Then came the penultimate scene and I wept like a newborn babe.
Movie weeping then set off actual weeping from the build up of stress and worry and everything else, and carthew held me and stroked my hair as I released keening wails and wracking sobs. I was able to unload and then go back to my normal wise-cracking self. At this point, Hubbyfink and I are back to being brave for each other but we do know and understand that the other is worried. He'll be okay, and in less than a week from now, he'll be back home and fending off his spot in the bed and on the sofa from Margiekitten and Oreomonster.
We've been going with gallows humor during this time to keep the terror at bay.
At way too early o'clock on Tuesday morning, we'll head up to Holy Cross hospital in Maryland and he'll be under for eight hours or so while I try to distract myself with telecommuting (if the hospital has decent wifi... of course, Bossman isn't expecting me to do anything this week) or reading or wandering the hospital.
What does this have to do with Les Mis? carthew was horrified that I hadn't seen the musical movie version and scheduled a movie night for me, psalite and LJ-less Kim. I've never seen a stage production, but I did read the book in high school and have seen a couple of non-musical movie version, and I've had the original Broadway cast soundtrack. So, I'm familiar with the story and the music. Because I didn't lose it during "I Dreamed a Dream" nor Gavroche's death, I figured I'd get out of the movie with my shriveled, cold heart intact. Then came the penultimate scene and I wept like a newborn babe.
Movie weeping then set off actual weeping from the build up of stress and worry and everything else, and carthew held me and stroked my hair as I released keening wails and wracking sobs. I was able to unload and then go back to my normal wise-cracking self. At this point, Hubbyfink and I are back to being brave for each other but we do know and understand that the other is worried. He'll be okay, and in less than a week from now, he'll be back home and fending off his spot in the bed and on the sofa from Margiekitten and Oreomonster.