That Monday Knows How to Bitch-Slap A Girl

4 Jan

The Monday after vacation is always hard for everyone in the family – except, usually, me. See, working at home has a number of advantages. And number 1, in big, bold neon letters, is the fact that I get to stay in my pajamas as long as I want.

This, of course, drives my mother a little crazy and makes my husband laugh at me, but usually I’m at least semi-dressed by the time he gets home. This means that I’m wearing underwear and jeans and so-what if I don’t have a bra on under my sweatshirt! Jeez! Usually on the Monday after vacation I get some work done, do a bit of cleaning, and watch a show or two while I fold laundry.

But this Monday decided to bitch-slap me to prove that I’m just like everyone else on the Monday after vacation – vulnerable.

It started with my annual physical. It was the third time it’s been rescheduled. First the doctor’s office rescheduled, then I rescheduled, and I figured that if I didn’t go my doctor would run into me at the store and would tell me off. That’s what you get for living in a small town, you actually see your doctors and dentists in public. They know where to find you and they can, and will, come after you!! Nightmare of the medical professionals! GAH!

Anyway, I figured it’d all be ho-hum boring until I did a urine sample and the nurse goes “um, sweetie, are you having your period right now, or about to?”


“Um, no.”

“Oh, it’s just that you’ve got some blood in your urine.”

Well, that’s a way to start a Monday. And because I have a family history of bladder cancer, the doctor called for another urine sample. “It’s probably just a UTI,” he said, “but we’ll just make sure.”

Yup, those words are comforting to hear. To tell the truth I had assumed that it was just a UTI until he mentioned the whole “oh yeah, your bladder is ripe for cancer” thing. Now I’m waiting on the results! But I wasn’t going to let that get me down. I was in a good mood and did everything I could to keep that good mood. But then I got home and got a phone call from Scott. One of the men he’s known for a long time passed away that morning. I could hear it in his voice – he was grieving and stuck at work, when all he wanted to do was to go be with the family.

I always thought that it was harder to be the person grieving than to be the one supporting a grieving spouse, but when my mother-in-law passed I learned differently. It’s just as hard, if not more difficult, to be the one supporting the griever simply because you don’t know what to do. You want to take the pain from them, but you can’t. You want to make it all better, magically, but you don’t know how.

Scott has never dealt with death well – and the fact that this death was from cancer is like an additional blow. Cancer took both of his parents, and he has a vendetta against it. He is so scared that it will strike down anyone in his family that he gets seriously paranoid whenever any one of us has any sort of weird symptoms. So add the lovely “bloody urine” to his friend passing from cancer and you’ve got a very upset and worried Scott.

I would never have told him about the test at the doctors if I had known. But I’d texted him before he called, dammit.

He spent the evening with the family while I took care of hearth and home. Somehow as the time went on I got more and more sad, and more and more tired. When he finally came home I had a dinner plate ready for him, and he downed it all quickly, which made me feel a little better, and glad that I’d made sure to save him some. I gave him some time with the kids alone (they were going to bed in half an hour) while I took a shower. When I got out of the shower he gave me this huge, huge hug. The longer he hugged, the tighter it got.

“I’m just so thankful for everything that I have.” he said.

Me too, babe. Me too.


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