There's nothing you can do and nowhere you can go, the guilt will swallow you whole.
When your loved one is in the throng of a cancer war you can do everything they ask. Go out and get some food from the restaurant in the middle of town because that's what they feel like. Take on every parenting duty that you can while at home, including feeding, washing and putting to bed children. Lay down in your bed after an exhausting day and listen, at length, of your loved ones day, in real time. However, even if you do all those things (which I have), if you take even one second for yourself you feel like you've just mashed a sack full of potatoes with a baseball bat with a nail through it, only to find out the sack of potatoes was actually a sack full of puppies. The guilt is outrageous. It's the same kind of guilt that Chris Brown didn't have after he beat Rhianna and then got her beaten face tattoo'd on his slimy neck. You know, a lot.
I normally do a podcast with my brothers just shooting the bull, talk about news and whatnot. It's not a huge deal but it really helps to let out the creative energy in a conversation where I get to tell stories about my brothers and make them out to be huge morons in the process. Last week as I was recording I had the pains of guilt. Did I do enough before I started recording? Did the wife need anything right now? Why aren't you doing things RIGHT NOW YOU FOOL!?
Sure it's an overreaction. A very huge overreaction, but fitting in a way. Luckily my wife only has Lymphoma. Which sounds worse than it actually is. In the cancer world it's taking a knife to a gun fight. Imagine bald Sean Connery in a track suit and a knitted cap walking slowly to a mafioso henchman towards an open balcony.
I know it sounds paranoid and stupid, but there's not enough you can do. There will never be enough you will do. You push though all that though, because if you didn't you could stress yourself into being incapable of doing anything. Throwing yourself into a depression at the situation.
But that's an absurd reaction. Shutting down is not an option because there's just too much to do. There's children to take care of, a job to go to and a wife to comfort. You shutting down will crumble the building that is your entire life. Your job is to cheer up. It's to keep spirits up and make cancer look like an idiot. Make it your bitch. I actively don't refer to the cancer in conversation. It's just an inconvenience that has happened. To name it would give it too much respect. I don't respect cancer, I don't even know it's last name. Long story short (too late), I feel guilty for not doing some, but not enough.
This week Vickie got her first taste of the side effects from her treatment. I use the word "taste" ironically as she has lost her sense of it in the last few days. How awful would that be? It's a well known fact that tasty things taste good. Top scientists have proven that. To lose such a fantastic part of your life would be horrifying. Plus, tasting things is one of the only things I'm really really good at. I couldn't imagine not tasting a well cooked steak, cheesy nachos or spicy chicken. If I had to give up one sense, it wouldn't be taste. I'd rather be blind or deaf than not being able to taste. That being said, I feel guilty that I can taste and my wife can't.
Also this week Vickie's hair started to come out. It's really slowly being lost, but those first strands were painful to witness. Talk about crap. I mean, the only good thing about losing hair is Curly impressions and I hate the Three Stooges. Also, I feel guilty that my hair is fine and seriously looks great.
I don't really feel guilty though. That's a lie I tell myself because it's an easy excuse. Like all those times I blame the smell of my living space on my children, when it was the crispy tacos I had for lunch. What I'm feeling right now is horrible for my wife. Pure and simple. I feel horrible for her place in life at this moment, being faced with this disease. I feel horrible for my children who are getting a little more discipline from us that isn't needed. They are just acting like a 3 and 5 year old, not acting bad. It's our stress that is being projected onto them. Hopefully they aren't really getting the business that badly, it's just my warped sense of direction right now. And I guess I'm feeling a little horrible for myself only because I feel so much older than I did a few months ago. Older in age and much more in becoming that thing people get when they do good in bad situations. What is it? Oh yeah, more grown up. It feels like being sentenced time at San Quentin for a crime I didn't commit. With a little bit of luck I'll be able to shake it off in a few more months.
The great thing is, as I've said before, we live in 2013. Today, cancer is a total pain in the rear end, but it's not a death sentence. It is some hair loss, some weakness and sickness. It is not a full body poison cure that does more damage than good. Times may be tough, but they are certainly are not bruising us that badly.
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