Today was actually going OK, all things considered, until this evening. Amy and I got back from dinner and I called my father back (he had left a message during dinner) who offered to go with me to chemotherapy tomorrow. He sounded pretty broken up but I told him it wasn’t necessary and it would be an in-and-out deal. I just want to put on a game face, get in, get done and get out and save the emotional breakdowns for home, which I’m afraid I won’t be able to avoid with everyone around me in shock at what I’m about to start having to do.
My mother called me back, apparently in secret, and told me he’s not doing very well with all of this and wanted to be there with me, so I called back and invited him. I just can’t deal with how much this is affecting him — my dad is never emotional, much less in a crippling way. Up until this cancer business I had only heard his voice crack in sadness twice, once at a funeral and when he called me a few minutes after he found out one of his brothers had died in a car accident. I’ve heard it more than once this week, and that’s just this week.
Hearing my dad’s broken voice about this is just killing me. I hear in it all of the anguish of outliving a child, of his eternal optimism just dying, etc. I don’t know how to handle that.
It’s not bad enough that I have terminal disease, but on top of the overwhelming weight of that and what’s happening to me I’ve found I now carry this tremendous guilt over how it’s affecting everyone around me as well. Broke down trying to talk to Amy about it while having some birthday cake a friend made for her. Oh yeah, today was Amy’s birthday and I promised myself I would let this shit go for tonight, but I couldn’t even manage that.
It’s just too much, this is all too much.
Why is this happening to me?