Ahhh, I avoid attention. Wash finally heard back from the surgeon for me and I have my appt with him on Tues morning. Which is nice 'cause I really would like to be able to walk without a cane or not hobble right now. I'm worried, chemo week is almost here again and I need myself healthy to care for Wash right now. Crap. Crud.
Also, more bills to come from all this I know and I just wonder how it's going to get paid? How more frakked my credit will be?
I am terrified of knee surgery. Terrified.
Aelphie is doing ok, Wash and I were talking this week and offered a chance at adopting a kitten. We've been discussing it and have to meet said kitten first but might get a second one. Aelphie could use a friend she can play with, and I miss having a little bar of fur around. Plus this wouldn't be "mine" or "his", it'd be ours.
He threw out a comment earlier this week, "So what about a day in June then for all the men who WANT to be fathers and can't?"
I wish I could give him that. So much.
The pain never quite goes away. It all becomes transferred. Physical pain to mental, mental to psudo-physical to emotional...
As hopeful as I am from all this, perhaps another year or two with the man I love, it wears on me. It hurts me, burns my soul. I fear for what will happen to me when he goes, who will help where he used to? He truly is another part of my own self; I remember what I used to be like before I found all the good things of life and living. I worked with death and would dream of the dark. My life was to be one endless stretch of solving murders, and putting names to those who have broken faces and nothing to them anymore; not even flesh.
He changed that for me. I found my garden, my passion for life with him. My desire to live in the world, not be too apart from it.
There's a preemptive ache in my heart. And my knee fraking hurts too.