Drove to Zion NP today. Nice drive, though 6 hours long. We've been here once before, about 21 years ago. The kids were small then and we were squeezed into a compact sedan. Things were much different then. One big difference is we didn't have the inescapable nagging feeling in the pits of our stomachs that this is the last trip before Heidi gets her first trip to the University Medical Center.
Oh, another big difference. I got a speeding ticket at the north end of Arizona, just before crossing into Utah. He said I was going 80 in a 65, but wrote the ticket for 75. Very generous. A few days ago that would have really set me off. But by today I am well past anger in the 5 stages of grief. I thought about trying to evoke pity with the officer by claiming my wife has leukemia and is starting chemotherapy in a few days . . . and I was speeding to . . . well, that doesn't really work. Woulda come across pretty pathetic, and he wouldn't have believed me anyway.
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Supposedly the 5 stages of grief. I don't really remember a denial stage, though I did try to convince the first nurse she was mistaken when she first asked about anemia. Maybe that counts.
Anger came quickly. For a few days there I didn't feel real receptive of anybody's bullshit. At work, from friends, family, everybody and everything. Though there can be occasional attempts at testing at work, fortunately I have had very few challenges recently. It was good because I wasn't really inspired to work hard anyway.
I don't remember bargaining. Perhaps that's because I don't believe in a deity. After all, who else can you bargain with when it comes to leukemia? Nobody else but the all-powerful would be worth contacting to try to strike a deal. Or maybe the bargaining should take the form of, "just give me one last vacation with her." No, that doesn't work. First of all, I already get that, well, I get part of a last vacation. Second, that isn't anywhere near good enough--nothing less than full remission would be worth bargaining for. Third, we have so many other vacations already planned. We've already picked out 5 years worth of vacations to take in the Southwest. We've already planned our post-Tucson years: a stint on the east coast, then England, perhaps Europe, then if we have enough energy, Australia and, well, it gets kinda dicey after that (we haven't planned when it will start, but where). There's no amount of bargaining that could make up for that.
I don't think depression was a separate stage. During many of those angry days I felt like my eyes were contstantly tearing. Same for Heidi. Everytime somebody calls, she ends up in tears. When she went to work, she and everyone at work were crying. It's nice to hear people are concerned, but it is trying to have this recurrent, unexpected emotional hijack several times per day. Part of the reason I'm writing this is to answer some of the questions that she and I have already answered with broken voices and lumps in our throats many times. I'm expecting depression to be our companion for some time.
Finally, acceptance. I think both of us are there now. Which makes some of the tearful conversations even more awkward when I am matter-of-fact and the other party is blithering. Once again, I don't fault or blame or disparage anyone for calling and showing concern. Really, I would be more resentful if y'all didn't. But, really, I for one, and Heidi to a lesser extent, are accepting this thing and are mounting a battle plan. Not that my part is all that brave or gallant. But it does help Heidi to see that I am acting rational and steady and confident and keeping my blithering to a minimum. Or so it seems.
I don't remember bargaining. Perhaps that's because I don't believe in a deity. After all, who else can you bargain with when it comes to leukemia? Nobody else but the all-powerful would be worth contacting to try to strike a deal. Or maybe the bargaining should take the form of, "just give me one last vacation with her." No, that doesn't work. First of all, I already get that, well, I get part of a last vacation. Second, that isn't anywhere near good enough--nothing less than full remission would be worth bargaining for. Third, we have so many other vacations already planned. We've already picked out 5 years worth of vacations to take in the Southwest. We've already planned our post-Tucson years: a stint on the east coast, then England, perhaps Europe, then if we have enough energy, Australia and, well, it gets kinda dicey after that (we haven't planned when it will start, but where). There's no amount of bargaining that could make up for that.
I don't think depression was a separate stage. During many of those angry days I felt like my eyes were contstantly tearing. Same for Heidi. Everytime somebody calls, she ends up in tears. When she went to work, she and everyone at work were crying. It's nice to hear people are concerned, but it is trying to have this recurrent, unexpected emotional hijack several times per day. Part of the reason I'm writing this is to answer some of the questions that she and I have already answered with broken voices and lumps in our throats many times. I'm expecting depression to be our companion for some time.
Finally, acceptance. I think both of us are there now. Which makes some of the tearful conversations even more awkward when I am matter-of-fact and the other party is blithering. Once again, I don't fault or blame or disparage anyone for calling and showing concern. Really, I would be more resentful if y'all didn't. But, really, I for one, and Heidi to a lesser extent, are accepting this thing and are mounting a battle plan. Not that my part is all that brave or gallant. But it does help Heidi to see that I am acting rational and steady and confident and keeping my blithering to a minimum. Or so it seems.
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