Past the edge

It seems quite odd to me to have nothing to say.

I've been spending a bit more time away from the computer and trying to focus hard on our lives and coping with my depression.

I hate the helpless feeling. I hate the way it creeps up and robs me of my sleep. I hate the doubt that gets planted in my mind. The little warning bell that goes off at the thought of anything because everything can turn dangerous now.

Wash and I have been trying to work on being able to separate off our feelings of frustration at each other and the actual anger at the cancer itself, not the person in who it resides.

So far his health is holding pretty steady. The usual insurance issues with filling his meds- thankfully our Pharm team gets shit done.

Things are better between us at least. We always get our shit settled before bed, but we both have been working on trying to help each other more. It's to the point now where I have to specifically ask for "Tashi" time- a specific set amount of time where Wash focuses on treating me like a living person and less like a servant. I'm also trying to communicate more to him what I need of him and what he needs of himself to be a little bit independent.

I worry so so so much. Then again, considering that my husband is 27 and dying of brain cancer and I can't work/bring in income, and we live in Arizona - the state that told us to emigrate elsewhere, perhaps my stress and worry is an appropriate response.

I'm not a Princess

Today so far sucks.

Wash woke up late and not very clear memory wise.

This has led to several arguments on my part and yelling from Wash's.

Always of course, on the day he sees the therapist.

I'm not even sure what he is really mad about. He won't tell me, just gives very very fake "answers".

He says he wants to work on acceptance of his illness/disability but just yelled at me for "rubbing it in" when he forgets something. -And I remind him?

Here I am left with very unhappy thoughts.

I don't understand his brain. I don't think he knows himself anymore.

I can only get myself, and see patterns in others. He doesn't communicate... he has to be asked, to have the information drawn and pulled from him. I don't do that as an Aspie, and I just hate doing it in general for all the energy it takes from me.

"What's my reward [for remembering]?" He asks me - well, honestly he yelled that part too.

I don't know Wash. Me giving you as much normalcy as possible?

What's my reward? For remembering everything for you- and me- and DOING as well?

My reward? It as well is nothing.

I don't get pay for working 24 hours every day of the week with no breaks.

My husband either doesn't notice or can't remember to thank me for everything, what am I doing this for? - NOT A FRAKKING 'THANK YOU'.

I do this, deal with it, every second of every single day because I LOVE my husband.

I don't look at him and just see a label-"Cancer Boy" or something. I see the person there AND his disease.

He's back to thinking he is just "playing" a game of "Life". He's not living it, or trying to do anything. There must be a way to "win" and if he can't, woe be to me.

I've told him before. I don't want to stay married to a person playing at life. That's just a little too unfair to ask me to literally give up my life and my future for someone who seems to hate ME so.

I don't know if he is angry at me or himself or both.

It scares me, but it hurts not to know.

It seems to me I am being asked to DO everything, WATCH everything, TAKE CARE of everything.... and at the same time find and praise Wash for doing (what??!), accept my own pain, take on Wash's, defend my actions, again more praise for Wash breathing, NOT dare mention my own lack of care or attention, and do this all for another grown, living adult until he dies.

Then I can ask my parents to be co-signers for the rest of my life since my credit has been trashed from medical bills and Wash's debts that are now mine.

I'm not really happy to be alive right now.

I guess the biggest hurt is just seeing my care, my love, my time, my attention and all my resources going to someone else with the knowledge that it will never come back to me.

I guess that makes me a selfish human?

Frakkin' Fridays. This is the side of cancer you won't ever see in a nifty little sexy commercial.

The pain of struggling just to live.

-And they all are snoring too

I have been rather consumed with myself lately and not in a mood to write. I'm sorry to myself and to you, loyal readers and friends.

I've been having a bit of a harder time lately letting go of my stresses, but I have had less of them overall. Wash has been doing his best to be helpful when he can and not too much of a butt other times. His memory is spotty lately as well, both his short term and longer. We did get a CT scan for his ENT so we should know in about a month what's going on, less if something really bothers him.

It's emergency week here though, full of issues. Small fight with insurance to cover asthma meds, but we have a really really kickass pharmacy team who do a lot for us. Got my meds the same day even! Last night the car, our valiant Betty overheated for some reason. At night. Going 2 blocks (hush, Wash couldn't walk that far) it reached 250F by the time I got back to our spot. Of course I spent all night worrying about the radiator we just paid $1400 to fix, and what it might be. When I woke this morning I was at least comforted by the fact that we are 7 weeks into the 90 day warranty on the parts, called the shop, AAA to tow, and my parents (since they live nearby and told me to call next time the car had an issue). Spoke to a bunch of nice people who did their best to reassure me and then waited.

A few hours later, I find that one of two hoses melted/broke off the heater/element and needs to be replaced. Only - but- $200.00

Hey, at least the car still runs.

Lastly to add to my worry and people to call... need to take my sweet little fur girl Aelphie in to see a vet. Noticed yesterday she's asymptomatic but in the last week or so has developed a small cyst/lump on her tail. Doesn't seem to hurt her at all, she has full range of motion on her tail and is eating/sleeping/pooping/playing as normal. I'm going to get it checked out, but of course I worry about her. I want it to be something not serious, and hopefully less expensive, but because of Wash my first worry and fear now is always the worst.

I have learned to have to condition myself to bad medical news, on the -what?- chance it will happen.

I hate cancer for taking away that base optimism I once think I had. I don't think I was always this scared.

Taco Tuesday was moved this week, so thankfully the car should be ready today and waiting with tacos for us this evening at my parents. Normally this shop does same day work, but there's always a chance .... who knows.

In less worry some news the baby fry are now all just about an inch in size and ready to be re-homed. I'm going to see if a friend wants a couple and maybe another before I offer them up to the local fish store or something. There are 2 pink, 2 red, 3 orange, and one yellow/orange mix. Pretty mix. It was quite something to raise them up from eggs/fry all the way to "real" fish. So cool! I've really gotten into the aquarist hobby; picking and raising fish, designing tanks, feeding, even cleaning the tanks can be fun for me. All else fails I could spend the rest of my life working cleaning tanks and fish poo and probably be happy.

I've also noted that both kitties are currently napping in the bedroom with Wash. There's still room in there for me, so I'm going to take a breath and a nap.

Somehow, things will work out.

In the water

Thankfully the reason I have not been writing too much lately is that Wash has been feeling "well" for the past few days so I have had the chance to spend some time with him.

Aside from an unpleasant run in with a newly developed melon allergy this week I've been holding well myself.

Wash has still been "fuzzy" on time - he has a hard time telling the 'how long has it been...' part down with his brain. For him a visit from a year ago feels like yesterday and something he watched an hour ago he might not remember but from when he first saw it in 1989... his sense of time is distorted.

Brain cancer is an odd thing. I have been trying to hold it in my mind how much I need to actively appreciate him as well, not just bemoan my own lack of appreciation. I've told him how I feel, and we have a system where I can be honest with him. I have to remind myself to listen to that same care and give back to Wash for his help, when he does and can remember.

We had a nice spur of the moment date the other day. Decided to go visit the little diner where we spent time as boy and girl friends and got engaged. (Wash publicly proposed with a ring there, we proposed marriage to each other a few weeks earlier at IKEA) and grab some good ice cream. We ended up with fried pickles and a banana split- in two.

It was simple, bad for us but good tasting food, and with sweet sounds on the jukebox playing.

We've managed to get out to the aquarium weekly, still finding things about it to love, watch, explore.

He's almost made it two years with a disease that kills all but 2-3% within 18 months.

It is so powerful and so scary at the same time. Every day I am thankful he is still here, but most nights I fall asleep worrying he will not be waking up the next day.

What is "luck" really then?

Today luck to me feels like the taste in your mouth when you wake and realize that the person you love next to you is still breathing and not dead or gone. That relief tinged with terror at the knowledge that the fear could come true at any time.

Life, ah, finds a way

My parents are celebrating their 6th wedding anniversary today- they also decided one weekend to just "go North" and get married.

I must say, I find it sometimes harder to remember the date for not having an original celebration that day, they just told us when they got back.

Got stuck tonight in some bad traffic; 3 cars totaled, don't know about injuries. I got pissed off at all the drivers queue jumping.

Wash and I have issues. The cancer, it can make things even more frustrating.

Right now I am just trying to get him to a point where he can at least accept and attempt to do some share of help, SOMEthing...

I have learned, I cannot do everything. I already do too much and don't even take care properly of myself, it is too much to ask even more of me.

Taking a shower every day and doing dishes once a day just... it seems impossible for him to do it. He hates me when he can't remember and I remind him. He hates me when he does remember and he just doesn't WANT to do it.

Except my issue is that as an adult I know there are things we have to do that we don't want to, being an adult is sucking up the unfairness and just doing it anyway.

I have told him there is a Hospice Home or he can move to Cali and live with his parents if he doesn't WANT to do anything until he dies. But I'm not ready to accept a husband who just wants to die, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to just... exist.

His brain has been injured. His motivation section was DESTROYED by the tumor. He still CAN do things, it just takes so much more of him to do it.

I guess for me, the big picture is that doing just a couple small fast things each and every day to make life for myself and my spouse is not a big deal. It's even a bargain to do dishes daily and not have literally any other responsibilities. Everything falls to me, and some things which he can do, and said he would/will do I just... I can seem to find the energy to try and get Wash to question why he can't/won't do things, but I don't have enough in me to do it all myself.

I don't know if that makes sense.

I just hate having a house reek of rotting food because the past 6 days have been Wash saying "Oh, I'll get to it today...." "Oh, I'll just do it later..."

He tries. He does do things for me.

It's just some days I hurt so much, I tell him this, and then he says back to me, "Why don't you love/respect yourself more?"

I wish it was that easy. I wish I got energy back that I spend on him. I don't.

The worst thing about cancer is that Life does in fact go on.

Cancer doesn't stop the bills from piling up.

Cancer won't do your cleaning for you.

Cancer can be eating away at your very existence and body and for everyone else, life just keeps happening!

As unfair as EVERYTHING is, the world still turns and you HAVE to keep going on. Scream, cry, hate it, does not change the fact.

Normalcy means asking and expecting help. It means keeping the daily things going and knowing that even the hardest days you have to take the time to enjoy what is left.

I can love my husband and still hate the cancer. I do.

Some days are harder and some are pure joy. I just never know which I will wake up to.

Reflections

The good part of cancer I have to focus on sometimes?

There is literally a time limit on how long I can be pissed off at Wash for. Cause every night we end up going to bed happy with each other, in love, grateful, and thankful for that day and the hope for tomorrow.

Wash has given his permission for me to share copies of his old and new MRIs.

While I try and figure out his old one- different software, this is a comparison of his MRI in 06/11 and most recent 08/2011.

The cavity is healing well, and his cyst behind the right eye is marked out.

This is what brain cancer, chemo, radiation look like on the inside.

Just can't make a sound

Waking up this morning brought some unwanted realities home.

I fucking hate brain cancer.

So some of the side effects of Wash's cancer meds is that he is REALLY heat intolerant.

He already cannot tell when he is getting overheated, his thirst does not kick in as normal, and he is predisposed to getting dehydrated, which can actually lead to more seizures. He has to be careful how much time he spends outside/or in any area that is not temperature controlled. Failing this his doctors have confirmed can lead to more seizures and even perhaps hospitalization for him. That part Wash says he very much does not want, yet frustrates me so much because it seems like he won't DO anything to actually keep him out of it. He doesn't like listening to me, even when what I am telling him might save his life. FUCK.

This whole fucking week I have been reminding him to drink water, buying juice boxes for him to drink etc. He's been sucking on the soda tit for like 6 days.

We went out a record twice yesterday including one late night walk about a mile.

He's been complaining this week - and for a week I told/asked him to remember to drink; WATER. He loves his ginger ale and his root beer and anything "clear soda, but no caffeine". He is under the assumption (from WHERE/WHO??) that he can be "fine" if he just drinks soda without caffeine. This... is not so much true. His body just doesn't work that way.

Even last night when we got home.

Nope, he wanted his Ginger Ale. Gave him a giant glass of water before bed, asked him to drink it all. Nope.

I woke up this morning to find the hot water tap almost drained as he left it running all night in my bathroom. He did this at some point in the early morning because he was feeling "too bad" to walk downstairs to his bathroom. He knew at that point he was feeling crappy, but did not drink anything or wake me up to let me know. At this, I get upset. If he is really feeling like shit, he needs to wake me and let me know. Otherwise, I think he's just playing up whatever he can. He does this a lot.

He wakes up today and -SURPRISE- isn't feeling well. I decided to sit him and down and rationally explain that if he wants to decide on his own about his drinks and ignore me and his doctors then I just cannot give him sympathy or comfort for the situation he places himself in.

See, almost two years ago he kept feeling "dehydrated". He was fine, just didn't have enough water.

Except it was in fact a GAINT ASS BRAIN TUMOR growing in his head, crushing his brain and leaving cancer cells to kill him.

Pardon me for my reaction at not wanting to go through that again- until we have to. His health is my best interest, I just don't know why he cannot see that. I don't go out of my way to haul 5 gallons of water at a time unless it's for him, there's a reason for my actions and words; even when I rationally explain them I think, I worry, my point is lost.

I'm more than happy to try and give empathy/sympathy when I can, but I just do not know how to do it when the person puts themselves in the position of their own volition. I just don't know how.

Why do I both feel like "the bad guy" and also relieved as a caregiver?

I think she's crazy

Nothin' in this town tonight but a bunch of savages.

What's the quickest way for me to lose my shit?

Seeing a whole bunch of people passively doing illegal shit and not caring. See: Driving/Parking

Second stop of the night and I'm looking for parking downtown. Normally this is not an issue- there is a handicapped lot that was right across from where we were going.

Lot was packed full.

Of cars with no handicapped decals/plates.

We managed to find a place at the very very very very end of the lot. As we were walking back from the quick 5 min errand I spotted another non-decaled car parked in the RAMP for one of the spaces. The car next to us was a giant SUV taking up almost 2 spaces no plate or decal and the driver was sitting in it eating food out of a take-away service.

I yelled at her through her window.

Then blocked her in while I took a photo of her plate and called the cops.

For those lucky enough to actually NOT NEED a handicapped spot- having one and parking further away is often the difference between Wash getting to go out on an errand and him saying "Honey, it's just too far, I can't go."

I never parked in those spaces before Wash was sick-AND- had his decal. I still don't if Wash is not with me. I cannot imagine the teenage like self ego involved in people who take the spaces reserved for those in our society who literally cannot make due without them.

The third stop of the night involved me lugging water across a parking lot- someone abandoned a car on one side of the Watermill and a middle age man had parked his SUV across 3 lanes on the other side- with his doors left open so his 3 young children could run around the car.

At 9 o'clock at night.

I asked him if he could move or even close a door/keep his children from running in a frakkin' parking lot.... he then switched from speaking English with his girls to saying "Que?" to me.

Savages. Bunch of fucking savages in this town.

I'm writing this in hopes of letting go of this anger.

I have Asperger's. I really cannot STAND people pulling shit.

It feels like little pricks stacking up and building in intensity to a point where my brain literally physically hurts- it's not like a normal headache, like there is just this pressure/aura in the very center of my brain and it expands the more I can see disorder in the social stratae. So many small things that add up until it feels like I cannot function in all the disorder that has been created- the rules are what I live and ride on and it feels like my brain gets derailed when I actually go out into the world.

SIGH.

Time to cuddle with my kitties and my guy.

Let go of my hatred of disorder, of the people causing it, try to accept I cannot change or fix everything in the world, even in my own city.

Growin' up Aspie's is hard.

Champions of Queen

We both had our doctor appointments today. Thanks to some good friends we had the cash come in so I could afford the co-pays and gas and paid my electricity bill- yay cool air and hot water!

I'm not really ready to go into my own medical issues, but I got the best news I could have from the doctor for my situation, and she took the extra time to go over a few long term worries I had and reassure me and filled me in on different contingencies.

It is a MASSIVE relief.

Short story for now, I am not facing surgery anymore, or more pills.

I am attempting later to see if I can do a screen grab of Wash's latest MRI so you readers can see not only his healing brain and the hole from the tumor site, but also his cute little cyst. I say that because compared size wise and danger wise this cyst is NOTHING to a glioblastoma tumor.

We had a great Taco Tuesday night, and I'm hoping the good mood/less stress carries on through the week. We did a Skype call after eating with my eldest brother (he lives/works in Japan) and we were looking forward to it greatly as they finally got our huge "Cars 2" present/box o' goodies this week.

So my lovely not quite 3 year old nephew got a big box to play with, and some noisy cars/trucks, a couple story books, Cars band-aids, and a train engine bank from my mum. My nephew on seeing the bank showed it to the camera and said with perfect pronunciation "Thomas! Train!"

Guess we know what else he likes! He seemed very happy and the cute shirt we bought him is just on the side of too big so he can grow into it. Seeing and hearing him sing and play and laugh at his Otosan and Otasan was infectious. He's a great kid and I really cannot wait until he is old enough to travel over here.

Laundry tonight and a mostly clear day tomorrow- probably light house work and maybe a trip t the aquarium if Wash is feeling up to it. He was given 2 one year long membership passes for his birthday so I really want to make the most of it. We're really hoping to go once a week, it's such a short drive.

We went away for a day this weekend- up with our friend Sr and a few others. Wash and I enjoyed the fun of getting away for just a bit- but since it was only one day we did not get a cat/fish sitter. Mistake. While we were gone the fish (who were not fed- one day!) attacked the smallest Otocinclus (Adrien) and ate him. When we got home there was only Ambrose and he's been hiding/sad since. So we went and got another Oto for the tank, so Adrien 2 is joining the tank to keep Ambrose company. My mother thankfully made me feel better by laughing at the appropriate names of the cleaning/sucker fish and did not dwell on the fish death. I also got some good hugs from my (step) dad so that goes a long way for me.

To answer my readers, yes Wash and I do get into "spats" sometimes, and yes, I call him on his shit. We have some divided chores- I end up doing it if Wash "forgets", sometimes he genuinely does, and sometimes he is just a lazy-ass boy. I can usually tell which is which so I call him when he is just being lazy or wants to play with his Warhammer stuff more.

Sure he is dying. He's terminal. But he chose to live with me, to live as my husband which comes with some (flexible) expectations. I know he cannot do everything he used to, but he is still capable of things and I encourage him to keep those up. So when he gets lazy and "will get to it" for about 5 days, yea, I call him on his dirty shit. He's allowed and does call me on mine too though, so for us it works. Just because he is dying does not excuse him from being a husband or a person with responsibilities. At least, not until he tells me he is ready to give it all up and go to Hospice care.

So, dear Readers, I will leave you tonight with cute pictures of Wash, me, our kitties, and my nephew & bro.

Notarized

Just as an aside- Wash and I made up before bed. We have a policy to work any fights or arguments out before bed- it is just too much of a risk for me to ever go to bed angry; what if that is the night he doesn't wake up?

It is important to me that we do talk, converse as normal, which does include the standard new couple stuff about who's turn it is to clean what, or which tv show to watch... sometimes with Wash's situation though even the little things can seem heated or big and it gets blown out of proportion.

We had a teddy bear fight and worked past some stuff.

Today we went into the lawyer's office to get Wash's will/living will/power of attorney stuff done. I think it was harder for Wash to prep for it than to actually just say/write down what it is he wants. I hope he can process his feelings and will be doing better now that it is both done, and he is not immediately dead (yes, I think subconsciously he did think that would happen.)

In the bigger and more pressing news, we are screwed. Back in May (ish) I got some letters from Social Sec and MediCare stating that Wash finally qualified and there would be issues resulting. Aside from his prescription coverage changing (and right now we are fighting over his anti seizure meds being covered. The same one's he's been on for a year now...) the government would be charging us a monthly premium for MediCare- AND according to the paperwork be paying us a monthly sum to help (at LAST) with the medical expenses. (Yes, dying of brain cancer is expensive. Even palliative care. Imagine if you were 27 and dying? Wouldn't you want to die with your spouse in the home you have known all your adult life? Well, Wash does. And frankly, his wants count.)

So, they would take out $115.xx and change and -in theory- according to paperwork give us $605 monthly to help with medical costs (right now we run around $1000.00 month in uncovered expenses relating directly to medical care).

Today after the 3rd month with this payment still not showing up and LOADS of bills to pay... the rep for the government says that our money first goes to the State of Arizona and then they are supposed to be giving us back "the extra" above the $115 deductible.

Which they haven't.

And MediCare can't make the state pay us our money that is allotted to us and should be going directly to the PATIENT for his care.

Dear Readers, I need help. My bank account right now has a little over $9. I have two doctor co-pays tomorrow and possible prescriptions to fill. And gas for the car to get us there. We have a friend who is helping us/floating us right now and I'm hoping to get some funds in a week or more.

Honestly, if you can, please help us. There is a very small safety net to begin with if you become terminally ill in your 20s, and it seems in the past three months ours has grown a big fat hole in it.

This is me laying it all out in hope.

I hope that humanity, that individuals can make a difference more so than politicians who would rather talk than save my husband's life.

I hope to have better and happier things to update later.

Thank your deity/self / whomever if you are not terminal, chronically ill, disabled, or un-insured. Often it can be a miserable experience (fighting for coverage or money) to just try and live, let alone trying to NOT die.

Atmosphere

First, the good. I do want to write it, I do want it noted. Good things can and do happen.

Sat I woke up very early and packed an away bag for us. Wash woke up and did his best to help. We picked up our friend Sr and drove North. Well, I drove. Stop for groceries, stop for gas. 30 some odd miles later and we were up at Sr's parent's place for the weekend.

We had a pool/bbq out for Wash's birthday. I think I went swimming about 4 different times. We had some friends come over and help make some of the best burgers ever and I even made up some margaritas. We laughed, told jokes, and played games for a few hours.

Sleeping was fitful- no noises but the dogs. No planes or trains or noisy neighbours. Was lovely.

I'm very used to my own bed though.

I'm not certain how to write this next part.

Wash and I argue. This is part of marriage, part of the learning communication thing, part my Aspergers, and part brain damage from cancer.

It means though there are times when I'm just frustrated and sad. Times when I cannot comprehend his behaviour and I'm "toned" with shock.

And times when he just hates all that has happened to him so he acts spoiled. He will not live up to his word, and frankly, some of the time it is just him using an excuse.

He hates laundry. He hates the dishes. I fully know sometimes he just puts them off because he doesn't want to do a chore.

News flash, I don't want to either! But, since I'm not the one with cancer, I don't have choices. I have to make sure he gets fed and the house is clean. Food gets bought. The car stays gassed and legal to drive. Trash gets taken out. MediCare gets fought over.

I get sick and just impatient when he pulls shit.

I don't hate him. I don't begrudge his feelings, if I was dying I would not want to lift a finger either. But that is not the reality of our situation. The Earth still moves and things need to get done, so everything just gets shifted back onto me. It sucks. Much as we can wish, the truth remains and so does the work.

Wash has an appointment tomorrow to work on his will. This I also think is not helping him overall attitude wise.

I think we are both just sad, scared, and upset right now. He just turned 27 and faces the very very very real possibility of not living to see 30. That is painful for both of us.

Life ain't fair and even teddy bear fights can't cover that truth for long.

We keep coming back to that question, 'How do you live when you are dying? Where do we go from here?'

The cats let him sleep in

It's Wash's 27th birthday today!!!!!!!!!!!

Kickass!

Back in a bit, taking him and some friends up to overnight where there is a pool, bbq, friends, and a sweet puppy to cuddle.

Fuck you cancer. Fuck you.

I have my husband, my best friend on his birthday - AGAIN.

Fuck you brain cancer.

For now, he's still mine.

-And thank you, Cherie Priest. We got your package this week. I broke down and cried. My deepest appreciation for you to do that.

Fuck cancer, my husband is alive and 27, and today will kick ass.

Bad preparation

So Wash turns 27 tomorrow.

I have not had time or a spare cent this week to get him a card.

We did the birthday stuff last week.

I'm driving his butt up to our friends' place this weekend so he can relax, swim, and celebrate.

I still feel guilty.

He really just wants good time and memories with me, but I feel like shit for not giving him something big and memorable since there is that giant odd he might not get one next year.

Life brings complications. I'm hoping a day and a half away from that and the city will help. And there's a sweet older 'puppy' at the house too.

Here for protection

Early morning medical tests for me today. Still waiting to see if the first week gets some of the Governemental paperwork cleared up.

We have a new grief therapist- I was going to call him Dr Wink, but Wash prefers the nom de plum as "Dr Tex".

So much to write about, so I hope after I get back and have a nap later to do so.

Wish me luck!

Alphabetically it's "Levi-Shoemaker"

So Wash did manage to get into his MRI and appointment today. I woke up as asscrack early and was on the phones.

Turns out that even though our paperwork says "effective as of July 1, 2011" what that MEANS is that they won't pay/authorize anything until August 1, 2011.

Sigh.

So, thankfully today is the start of the new month. Billing can now charge for his work so we had no issue once it was established his coverage had changed.

We are also having insurance issues with his refills over at Walgreens, but our local store knows him well and often goes above and beyond for the sake of his health. Hopefully his meds will be ready tomorrow.

Now, I'm sure your all wondering how the MRI went...?

No new tumors!

Now, the scan did show something though... apparently Wash has a cyst (6mm x 7mm) right behind his right eyeball- it's like a small grape right behind his optic nerve! It's kind of cool to me and thankfully since they checked, it has been there since at least late 09 and has not grown bigger. He's going to see an ENT specialist just to be sure, but since it is not causing him problems it will probably just be watched and hopefully no surgery needed.

What's this mean? Essentially, the same thing for Wash. Probably will live another 2 months at this point, hopefully more. Always hope for more.

For now he is 'stable' still and according to his oncologist looks "great!" "You were at death's door when I met you, you looked sick, and now if you wear a hat few people would be able to tell you have had brain damage/surgery." I can tell- but I knew him before. I think if someone spent 15 mins with him, or when he was tired it would be much easier to tell, but I have to agree. He works hard to seem "normal"- though, personally, I think this might not be that helpful overall to his mental health- he keeps trying and pretending to be "normal"- his old pre cancerous kind- and it just feeds into his denial of death. He is finally starting to accept that he may/will die early of something if not the cancer, and honestly when I see him feel he has to pretend for others- it hurts.

I guess it hurts me that I've accepted what he yet cannot.

We've got some grief therapy this week I'm sure we will be talking about it.

We've been out of the house driving/doctors/errands for 6 hours of the last 10. We are both pooped.

And Leto wants to play Fetch. It's become his new favourite pastime. 3pm.. 6pm... 5am... it's all good and playtime! Worst thing is his adorable and pathetic little whine he does to make me throw it, if putting the toy in my lap and placing his paw on my leg while "Meooooooooooow?" doesn't work.

Hope to make it to the library tomorrow before some more doctor visits.

At least the cats are cute and the fish are relaxing.