We got home from Cedar Sinai last night, where he was administered five different chemo as well as had a bone marrow biopsy and a spinal tap. After we got home, I found him in the kitchen, standing over food he had taken from the refrigerator. Just standing over it, his brain unable to make a decision about what even to open. As I approached him, he turned to look at me and with this simple phrase "I can't seem to figure out what to eat," the baton was passed. It was quick and effortless for both of us. We know what to do.
I did three things for myself today. All of them made me cry. I met with a spiritual counselor, and I cried for an hour, opening up and letting Spirit in. I met with a friend for lunch and cried after he left, mad at myself for closing down. I had an incredible moving massage by a man whose hands released so much of this tribulation that I cried during most of that, too. In the spa, I cried in the whirlpool, in the quiet room and in the steam room. I cried while I got dressed. I cried when I stopped at Jo Ann Fabrics to get elastic. I cried while I sang in the car. I was sure that once I blew through that self-protecting wall I would not be able to stop crying. I don't care if I cry forever. Today was the closest I've felt to whole.