Currently reading - Changes by Jim Butcher
Sorry about the lateness of today's post, folks. Yesterday was too freakin' depressing.
GK and I got into a major argument of his school stalling techniques. (Yes, I know who's supposed to be the evolved one.)
Then I got to the Day Job only to be faced with grumpy customers and grumpy managers. Can't blame the managers. The new person called to quit twenty minutes after her shift was supposed to start.
The topper to the day was a friend was diagnosed with cancer. She looking at serious surgery because none of the non-invasive procedures could tell her doc if the evil cells have spread. And possibly radiation or chemo regardless if the evil has spread or not. Just in case.
Unfortunately, whenever something like this happens, my old fears about DH's cancer slam to the forefront. Ridiculous, I know. He's been clean for fourteen and a half years now. It doesn't make the feelings go away.
So I did the stupid thing that a child of alcoholic shouldn't do. I stopped at the store for coolers and beer on the way home from work. So over dinner and a strawberry margarita cooler (DH drinks the beer. I can't stand the stuff.), I whined. Then I poured another cooler, and instead of writing my blog and editng AVT, I curled up on the couch with Harry Dresden for the next couple of hours.
On the plus side, I don't go through the fear and depression on the anniversary of DH's diagnosis like I did for years. It jumps out and slams me out of the blue with this kind of news now. And as DH pointed out I need to get a handle on it. We were unusual since he was fairly young when he had cancer, but now that we're sliding into middle age, things like this are going to happen more frequently. 40% of my critique group has had a spouse in the hospital in the last month alone.
[Edit to add, I realized how that last sentence sounds after I posted. In neither case did the gentleman in question have cancer.]
Sometimes, life just sucks the big one.
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