Meanwhile, Richie is going through a major health crisis. He's in the hospital now. The doctors are either not sure yet what is going on with him or they are keeping their cards very close to their vests. The uncertainty is driving both of us crazy. Even though Richie is strongly urging me to continue with my studies, he's going to need lots of help and so will I if this turns out to be something other than a temporary, immediately curable problem.
Needless to say, this is a really crummy holiday season. Since the death of my father on Christmas Eve Day in 1975 I've been in the "holiday blues" category. No, this isn't my freaking holiday, but the cultural, non-religious aspects of the holidays are still a big part of American life so I've been at least ambivalent about them for most of my life.
But this tops it all. Richie and I have had, rarity of rarities, a really good marriage for almost 20 years. I used to think I'd kill myself if I lost him but I think I have enough of a sense of mission in my life to want to carry on without him, no matter how difficult life will be. I want him to survive this, most importantly. However, if surviving means heroic measures, horribly poisonous chemo, punishing radiation treatments or other "cure is worse than the disease" treatments, he has said he will refuse them. I have to support him on this regardless of how I feel. And to be honest, after seeing what my mom went through, I would likely make the same decision.
I am not a happy camper. But I have to be strong now, for both our sakes.
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