When I was in high school there was some hubbub about reading Dante's Inferno. So, like other Americans I get my classics later in life, as an animated feature. It was the kind of animation that Mac likes... extreme, gruesome, a lot of sword play and large animated breasts.
It was compelling for me and brought home to me that since Mac has had his stem cell transplant, I have a great deal of rage. It shouldn't be that way. I know myself well enough to know that I can make it through tough times if treated with a little respect and given a little wiggle room. But in Iowa City, Mac was to be processed and I was just something they kept tripping over. I question where we ranked on the level of humanity. I think I was nothing and he was "job security".
Now I am f**king pissed off.
My rage is inflamed when people dismiss me because Mac was the sick one, and apparently *I* did not go through anything. But I was the one that was awake. I was the one that kept staff from giving him medications he was allergic to. I was the one who argued with staff when they didn't want to give blood products pre-meds. I was the one that cleaned him up when he threw up, got a bloody nose or had diarrhea. That's okay. I'm his wife and that is what you sign on for. But they shouldn't have made me feel insignificant. They shouldn't have tried to make me helpless.
Now I have rage, and some days it is incredibly close to the surface.
I would like to pluck the anger out of my heart, because it keeps me from getting things accomplished. It burdens me.
I need to get this figured out.