Oct. 25, 2008
My husband got it tonight. It’s fallout from a delayed reaction to others’ reactions to my boob saga. Yesterday- in the middle of trying to launch a business, a website, finish a radio show, get my mother’s situation square and raise my 2 beings- I’m getting outside anxiety literally phoned in. I get a call from my step-mom, Sherry (Yes, the sane one of our family but still… she’s a lawyer.) She starts in on whom I need to call (Her girlfriend who just went through this) and how I need to consult with this dr. and figure out when I can schedule my surgery so it co-ordinates with her schedule and bladey-bladey-bla. All delivered in a lawyerly, brusk, “f your breast cancer” kinda way. This is how Sherry sometimes reacts to emotional situations. She goes into “competent overdrive” and gets very… lawyer-ly. Yesterday, I didn’t have the extra skin for it. Just exhausted from the whole day, week, month, year. So, my pissy-ness begins. Then some more calls from others about what I “have” to do and how urgent then the topper:
My husband decided to care.
BASTARD!
Actually, his dad- another lawyer (Jeeze- if we ever get sued, we’re golden…) Who, in the midst of a “How’s she doing?” call with Doug reminded him to remind me to make sure I ask what the insurance company is and isn’t paying for…
Doug made the mistake of relaying this bit of advice. Poor guy, never saw it coming. Actually- it wasn’t even bad, for me. I can be queen of the immediate over-reaction. It’s just that, currently with me holding the “I have to have my boobs loped off” card, it’s hard to be on the other side of any argument. Realizing this, I folded (Stop, drop and apologize) and called it a night . (We were both exhausted from being up all night with Scout who decided it might be an opportune time to get a stomach bug and throw up all night. Seriously though- in the middle of changing her p.j.’s a third time and rocking her back into uneasy sleep the thought occurred to me;
“Cancer schmancer”… I know what matters.)