Shell Shocked.

It is Easter Sunday today. I am in a state of shell shock from the recent news about my life partner's cancer diagnosis. He has gone to Ontario to be with his 96 year old father and his brother.

The news isn't very good because his cancer is quite advanced. It is very strange because he doesn't look or act very sick. I have seen the results and have talked with his Doctor and know what all of this means. It is deepened by the fact that I am also not in great health.

Tim becomes highly scientific, logical and task focused at times like this. So do I. The house is very tidy, papers are organized and hoardings thrown out. Possessions mean so little right now.
I went to lunch with friends and realized I talked nothing about cancer. I talked about salt, anger at traditional celebrations, cel phones and my annoyance at people constantly texting when I am talking to them about scary things.

Three people have already made suggestions about huge diet changes. They have never eaten with me. They don't know that I grow food organically, gather wild food and eat mostly organic food. I also eat junk sometimes. I know life time vegetarians who walk miles a day live pure lives and still get cancer. So do other people. Cancer is not one disease with one cause. Both of us have very strong genetics for cancer. Tim's father is 96 and smoked and drank for many years, lived a highly stressful life as a soldier for years, meat four times a day, lived in an industrial town, had an industrial job, has been blown up, motorcycle accidents and major illness. My lovely friend's baby died before three months from a cancer formed in utero. Nothing had touched her lips besides breast milk from a fanatically pure mother. I can't bear this right now. I have plenty of information. I am an expert regarding cancer. My family have many people who are faith healers. They also have died from this stupid set of diseases.

Having the disease or surviving the disease forces us to become heroic. It forces us to think about life. Denial is hard when you really hurt. When you see parts of your body missing or damaged. I am a patchwork quilt. I know everyday that cancer once grew in my body. I have learned to do this.

I have lived with my sweet partner for 28 years. We moved in together on Hallowe'en night in 1981. We have been together for a long time. So long that I don't remember him not loving him.
We, of course, will cope and carry on and hopefully survive this new challenge. This is harder for me than any other thing that life has handed out. I understand every cliche.

I have this repeated dream for two weeks now. I dream that a very slender young man breaks into my house. He is wearing tight black clothing. He is packing everything important up and stealing it. He is doing it brazenly and keeps doing it and ignoring me when I ask him to stop. I wake myself up before he leaves my house but I can't get my breath. This week all I can do is remember how to breath. That is going to be hard because the lungs have been yanked out of me.

I don't think I will write for awhile.