Still on the Edge in Sumas

Life is still good and happy and zippedy doo dah but not sure how many more wonderful days there are to come. Then again nobody else is sure either.

The boyfriend's blood count numbers have never been so grim. Yesterday I was able to maintain some semblence of my previous faith in all things remaining as they are indefinitely (despite much evidence to the contrary) in light of how good he is at overcoming insurmountable odds, or at least odds that according to his doctors, are not good.

But we've not before seen such a steep decline in platelets, together with low WBC, and now really low T4 cells. So lots of grim dialogue about what comes next, and awaiting biopsy results, and considering going back on the anti-virals, and how this may or may not be related to the lymphoma, and how this changes things in terms of day-to-day living etc etc.

Like for example its no good for him to be working in a drug store around a bunch of customers who are routinely coming in with their various illnesses and coughs. And for example its not good for him to be the one emptying out the trash, cleaning the vacuum, arguing about who owes who how much (for a certain Kia Rio or whatever). I find myself thinking about how years ago, Charles was much less aggravating after he died. I find myself thinking about how a year ago, Roy went from an oxygen tank to dead in three months.

And then he throws in how unimportant the money matters really are and how the only thing that really matters is the time people get to have with each other. Not where we spend the weekend or when we fly to Montreal or which car we buy or how much who owes who before death do us part. Which is true of course.

And now on top of or maybe in spite of all this I have to somehow maintain my own boundaries and self-esteem and patience while putting up with his continual dominating alpha-male mechanizations and fears and unspoken resentments and drama. Of course we are both guilty. I really am a bit sick of it all and find myself wondering how it would be to be single again...

...and how many more years of having my menus chosen for me?
...and how it can be that at the same time I'm so much luckier than everyone else?
...and how speachless they all are when I say that!
...and can (or should) I nurture the thought of living alone, as something good?

Who really asks the right questions? Why AM I so hard on myself? When it comes to who directed that movie with David Bowie in it and...
Does it really matter if I can't remember and...
The movie "On the Edge" has a great soundtrack but will I need to hear it again a year from now and...
Last time Pat and I watched two movies (the other one was Paper Moon) and...
when Mark asked if I was "working on your lights" and I said yes but I wasn't working on the blue LED's that are destined for the police car no instead when I said "yes" I was referring to the paper and glass lampshade above the futon in the workshop so "yes" still counts even though his question was off topic on account of how both projects are "lights". So there...and...

How long can I sustain a tepid complement of a relationship with someone unable to leave me the hell alone when I ask for a bit of breathing room without accusing me of raising his stress level, and there-by endangering his health even more and essentially shortening his life? Oh yeah that's fair, thanks.