Eric had been wanting to talk to the folks at Kaiser for days, but he wouldn't do it until I told him it was okay. He agreed that the Oncology department was dropping the ball, but felt that there was probably some sort of miscommunication between us, my case manager, and the onocologist.
Yesterday I told Eric he could call my case manager. Boy, did they change their tune. So, today we're going in to see the doctor -- Eric, Jane, and I -- who gave us a lunchtime appointment because he says he wants to be able to spend more time with me and my family.
Now, of course, I have as bad a feeling about going to see him as I had about not going to see him. I've developed a complete system of thought that hinges around the idea that the only news he can give me is worse than the news that I've already received.
No one has ever asked me for general marital advice, but folks have made comments to me about how nice it is to see such a happily married couple. I often end up giving them the only marital advice I've ever had, which is this: If you want to be happily married, marry Eric.
There are a surprising number of people who have told me that they admire the "spaces" in my relationship with Eric. They admire that we'll do things independently of each other -- like Eric's summer trips, for instance. I've always thought, "nuts to that". I think that kinda misses the point. The truth is that anything one of us does that the other wants to do, is better with the other person there. We've never felt a need to build in private time, or to carve out space for ourselves.
Life creates enough space between us. We don't need to be adding any more.
That's my story this Thursday morning. Except this, which only a small subset of the (already small) group of people who read this blog will understand. I finally figured out who my oncologist reminds me of. It came to me a flash. My oncologist totally makes me think of Ray McKay.
Wish me luck today.
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