It's something I've almost gotten used to. He cries. He hates. He yells. He cycles through and faces for a few hours his own grief of dying. And vents it out on me.
He's fine now, back to his normal jocular personality. Last night was a different story though. Last night he just was so upset, so mad. I had made a comment to the effect of "If you keep lying to your family and friends about how you are really doing it only hurts everyone- me and you included."
This led to the "I have 3/4 of a brain, I used to do this, and I can't do anymore, so I'm worthless.... etc" Just imagine that for like 3 more hours.
Of me listening to that crap, and telling him it's crap, and building him back up. As best I could, which is getting worse and worse. It's so hard to get through the days people who are not caregivers just do.not.understand. He's not a child, but needs to be watched and helped like one. He can sometimes make adult decisions, but he still *is* one. He fights to live every day, but he draws that so much from me. I've been willing him to live every.single.day for more than a year now. I'm beyond tired. I'm at the point where I barely exist as a person or as a separate identity. I feel drained of life.
And every few days I have to work even harder to keep him alive for the next day.
He's my best friend. I'm already trading my life, my will, my freedom to him. I don't even know what if anything will ever come back.
Cancer seems to take everything but Hope.