This morning Mac woke up feeling ill. This automatically causes a brace in me. He sat on the coach moaning. I stood in the kitchen trying really hard to quell the desire to hit him with a stick. My hunch was that it was caused by leaving the air conditioner on all night. It was head congestion and some drainage.... but you never know. So we get through the moaning, the dry heaves, and an hour with a tinge of panic. He finally listened to me and ate his breakfast. Afterwards, he said he felt much better.
He will go off to work and be surrounded by people and have his day scheduled. He will have form and substance. I will have trouble getting started. I'll think too much. I'll try to discreetly look for hints of bruising when he gets ready for bed tonight. All of the fears that are so carefully held down will bubble up to the surface. I'll be afraid of tomorrow morning. Will he feel sick tomorrow morning?
For every day that passes, we are closer to a cure for the cancer that was in his body, but somedays I wonder if there will be a cure for the effects of cancer in our minds, our well being. After the original diagnoses of leukemia, I knew we had to start the chase for our dreams. But then there are days when it becomes very apparent that there is a dark specter that is also in pursuit of us, as we whirl around in this dance for our lives.
I was lazy and didn't do the supper dishes last night. So, they are done this morning. The bed is stripped and the whites have been washed and are now in the dryer. Horses have been fed, as has the dog. Living room has had the clutter picked up. As soon as the bed is made again, I will go outside and start some projects. Something very physical. Some thing that will wear me out, so I can start the process of pushing everything back down. Pushing it all back under the surface.