I'm angry and frustrated and even a little bitter. I'm sitting here alone in the apartment, Joe having gone alone to a clinic where he will undergo some heavy duty and serious medical tests. All along I thought I'd go with him but a few days ago he told me that he isn't allowed to drive for 4 hours after the test is completed. If I go with him, we'll have to sit around for those hours. Then he suggested that it would be best for him to take the subway in the morning and a cab back. He assured me that he'd be back early and all would be well.
A few minutes ago he was running around getting ready and I was being Smiley McFacey. I did't want my upset to upset his day. He asked what today's blog is about and I told him that it was about the joy's of early morning. 'I'll read it when I get back,' he said. And he'll discover me a liar.
Every single time I've had a medical emergency, a medical appointment or a medical test, Joe's been right there waiting. I can't tell you the solace that provides, just knowing that there's someone, no not 'someone' ... him ... there a few feet away. I know I'm torturing myself but I keep picture Joe in there alone, with no company, with no support. I just hope he can feel that I'm here at home in my office wheelchair saying a prayer a minute that he'll be fine. I'm sending out positive energy so the test will go smoothly. I'm hoping that he'll be blissed out by the drugs so he won't wonder about the inequity of our relationship.
A while back I wrote that my disability didn't change much. And, really it hasn't. But some of the stuff it has changed is important and leaves me feeling much less of a partner, much less of a man, much less of a friend.
Damn, I'm worried.
Damn, I don't like this.