It was inevitable. I had a stonking row with Duane last night. He came to bed asked me if I wanted to talk, he said I wasn't myself and something was up. I replied with the usual 'nothing' a few times but it wasn't washing so started to try and explain that things had changed for me, priorities etc. I wanted to say I didn't get the impression he felt the same and life for him seemed to have gone back to normal but as soon as I mentioned priorities he jumped in 'this is all about me going to the pub after work' I said no but in a way that was confirming my worries. I don't understand why he doesn't want to come home from work and be with me and the girls. Same argument I mentioned before. He said he needs some release of stress seeing as he's given up everything else (I got the impression he feels he's done that for me) and started on about I've given him no support with giving stuff up. I don't think thats true, another argument - asked him if there was anything else he was pissed off about to which he replied 'the whole job lot'. That started me crying, he got pissed off I was crying and shouted more (usual) I tried to go back to what I was trying to say in the first place, that all I was wanting to do was tell him how I was feeling, not argue. I told him I was feeling down. He basically told me to pull myself together he doesn't accept that my prognosis is 50/50 thinks I have a much better chance than that and I'm being too pessimistic.
I'm not too sure where it went from there but it got very nasty, cold and basically exactly what I really didn't need. I cracked, went outside to get away. Felt bloody awful, cried my eyes out which is probably exactly what I needed. Bollocks to Duane making me feel guilty for being low. Why shouldn't I? Surely I'm allowed a couple of bad days with all thats happened? Went back to bed after about 20 mins. Still bloody argued. Wanted to come here and express my feelings at all the insensitive nasty words he was throwing at me. Ended up just shutting it all out whilst the tears rolled down my cheeks. He fell asleep and after maybe an hour of silent crying, I did too.
I Woke up with a feeling of release. Ok my relationship is pretty much obliterated but thats nothing new, but somehow, despite the swollen eyes, I felt better. Must've done some good all the crying. Duane went off to work and I went to St Georges to the Plastics Dressing clinic to get the wound from my groin dissection checked. My Dad took me up there whilst Duane's sister looked after the girls.
Had a really good chat with my Dad on the way there which we don't get the chance of often. Talked about the melanoma thing first, I explained what I knew about the vaccine trials I was being offered. We discussed it all realistically and with a sense of humour, confirming to me that I haven't lost the plot and I am actually coping ok, despite a bad few days. We talked about alternative treatments (there are so many you could get bogged down with but some could be worth a try) stress and how to deal with it (Dad has been in hospital recently too, with chest pains that after an angiogram to rule out heart trouble, the dr.s put down to stress) and I told him Duane and I had rowed and we were basically clashing over the whole thing. It's the Mars Venus problem. He said you can try and get each other to understand you're side of it til you're blue in the face but it never works. I know he's right.
At the clinic the nurse removed my dressing and steri-stips. WOOHOO!! I can now have a proper bath for the first time in about 2 months (Yes of course I've been washing everyday but there's nothing like a warm, bubbly bath).
On the way home we stopped for lunch. Can't remember doing that for a very long time (if ever?) just me and Dad, it was nice.
This evening Duane has gone out to a friend's surprise 30th birthday bash. Wouldn't bother me in the slightest that, it's an event. Good reason to go out if you ask me. He asked when he came home from work (he often does ask and I can categorically state I have NEVER said no), I said, in my new found happy mood (well happy with everything but him and I to be blunt), that he can do what he likes, go to the pub daily, drink, smoke stick shit up his nose, he can get on with his life how he likes. Of course he said I'm being silly now, am I? Yes probably, but I have never wanted to make him unhappy and if thats what he wants he can get on with it and I shall get on with my life (part 2). I so wanted to do it hand in hand with him, I'm not half as brave on my own and I can't really foresee we can possibly walk seperate paths on this journey, but for today, I feel better thinking that might work.
As it happens he's just this minute walked in and its pretty obvious he's done all of the above things I told him to get on with and do. I'm not bothered in the slightest, I hope he's had a good time. I do love him and I so wish one day we can learn to relate with one another.
Oh and have I mentioned yet, my girls are bloody amazing. Gorgeous. I love'em to, well, death. (God where does that saying come from?)
I don't suppose I had mentioned it because most of this blog has been me moaning about how shit I feel. Poor old me. Well now I'm starting to get it off my chest, maybe IF there's anybody reading this (and they haven't slit their wrists), maybe I'll start lifting the whole mood, stop moaning and learn to enjoy this new chapter in my life. Because I am lucky I have so much to enjoy.
