The Astonishing FartMan said...
What a tough time you're going through. In my mind, my hand is smoothing your brow. Is it working? How I hope so!
And how sad it seems that sometimes we fragile and puny humans must resort to hopes and prayers. Well, I say hopes and prayers and love and good will are still the most powerful things. So I'm saying a prayer of thanksgiving that you have such a good husband.
I know what you mean about the knife fantasy--your fantasy that some mugger would do you the unintentional favor of stabbing you to cut out the tumor on your spine. I sometimes have a fantasy that I could take a hollow stick and poke it into my "hepatic subcapsular fluid collection" (AKA Cappy) and drain it away. When I poke in the stick, bilious green sauce squirts everywhere, and it totally blows everybody's mind, so they all think I'm possessed, and they want to call in a priest to do an exorcism. The priest comes, and he's Italian, so he says, "He's not possessed, but this green biloma sauce makes a very nice pesto."
I hope that makes you laugh!
I also know what you mean about doing "normal" stuff. I take great pleasure in my Wednesday evening routine of gathering up the trash from all the household cans and putting them out for collection in the morning. It's one of my silly "manly" chores, and I wonder who will do them when I'm gone. Of course, my wife can take out the trash, but can she change the A/C filters, negotiate with the auto mechanic, fix the the computer or TV when something gets out of whack? I suppose life will take care of itself just fine when I'm gone. But I do worry about my dear sweet wife. And I hope that when I'm gone she finds a good, gentle (and preferably, younger!) man to help her with the "manly" chores, but mostly to keep her company when she's an old lady.
(Yes, I know I'm not suposed to think about such things, but am supposed to accept the assurance, so often pressed upon me, that I'm cured. And, of course, that would be nice. But just in case I'm not cured, on the off chance, the very small chance, the infinitesimal possibility, that all the weird stuff going on inside my guts lately--and the undeniably high 5.4 of my last CEA--is the recurrence that everyone tells me will not happen, well I just don't want the shock of a surprise, so I gotta think about it now.)
How beautiful that you're so weak and so strong at the same time!