Sushi and Silence

Sushi is one of our favorite foods. Sake, Maguro, Unagi, Sabe. You name it, Dalton loves it. Perhaps the only one he doesn't love is Uni (sea urchin), and that is a story for another day. So, on Tuesday night, after a week free from nasuea, chemo mouth, and gagging, Dalton and I took a seat at a sushi bar.

The sushi was actually fabulous, and it went down easier than most anything else Dalton has recently eaten. But that's not what this post is about. You see, after 8 weeks of me running amuk trying to distance myself from the situation so that I could maintain a level head and still keep the baby, the house, the job,and the finances under control, and Dalton sleeping 18 hours a day, throwing up 2, and vegetating the other 4, we find that we have nothing to talk about.

Here it is, our big chance to enjoy the next three weeks before surgery, recovery, and more chemo, and we actually find ourselves often sitting in silence while dining. It's not that we don't have things we could talk about, but they aren't really happy things. I mean, what is it that really steers conversations? For me, it's usually one of four things: what I'm currently doing or working on, what I'm interested in, what's going on in the world around me, and what I'm planning for the future. What have we been doing or working on recently? Cancer. What are we interested in? Getting past cancer. What's going on in the world? How the heck should we know? Cancer? What are we planning for the future? More treatment for the cancer. We talked some about this issue yesterday (over more sushi), and it brought up even tougher ones.

Now that Dalton is feeling better, he is starting to feel the weight of what has happened. Last week, we had Christmas to focus on, but now he finds himself with a lot of time on his hands and very little sense of purpose. That typicaly leads to a lot of thinking. And thinking leads to depression (ok, not always, but in this case it does). The past few days, he has been very blah, even sad. He is afraid now. I don't think he's so much personaly afraid to die. I think he's afraid of going through this hell only to die anyway. What is the point of feeling miserable for six months only to extend your life by the same six months? It would be one thing if chemo were easy for Dalton, but we know better. And, there is something else that scares him, but we haven't been able to talk about it yet. Every time he tries, he gets too choked up and starts to cry. We seem to be in public places every time it comes up, so it keeps getting shelved. Based on the mutual tears that start flowing at that point, several sushi chefs and a smog check technician probably think we are getting divorced.

Even still, Dalton's faith really amazes me. I have always struggled more with faith in the face of adversity than he has, and this is no exception. I asked him if he was angry at God and he said, "No, He's my only hope." While I know that He is my only hope, I'm still angry, and I tell Him that even while I am begging Him to heal my husband. I wonder just how much He thinks I can handle.

Today, I am driving down to Buena Park to visit my Grandpa and hopefully arrange for some full-time nursing aides. In the past few days, his health has rapidly deteriorated. When I talked with the hospice nurse last night, she wondered if Grandpa would make it through the night. Since mom died last year, I have become his primary caregiver and financial support. While it's been tough, my Grandpa has always been very good to me and he deserves more than I can give. Like I told him last night, "The best Grandpa ever." He told me he was tired and wanted to go home to the Lord. And I said, "I understand and I love you. You're the best Grandpa ever."

Even after that conversation, Dalton and I decided to venture out to a birthday dinner for two of our close friends. I think it's important for us to live life now as much as we can. Iain tried his first Indian food - samosas and nan. Dalton was able to be normal guy instead of cancer boy. And I got to laugh. For a couple of hours, life was very normal. I hope I never take normal for granted again.