Remember when you were a kid and you were sure. Just positive. That when the sun went down at the end of each day, a monster appeared under your bed. One that would grab your foot if it got too close to hanging over the edge of the mattress in the night. The kind of monster that scares you so badly that you can’t even scream for your mom or dad to save you.
Okay, so the blood test in question finally showed up with results. Chuck got a call on Friday afternoon. That in itself says something. The levels were still as high as they were three months ago. They wanted to do further testing then, but Chuck said, let’s give it three more months and see. The doctors and I aren’t happy.
The test result didn’t freak me out as much as the fact that he didn’t tell the doctors that he’s having pain. That is very well related to these tests. I was angry.
I had asked to go along for the tests and consultation. He kept saying it was no big deal. (If it was no big deal, then why couldn’t I go along, was my response.) So to placate me in the moment, he promised me that he would tell the doctors about the discomfort that wakes him in the night. He promised. And I believed him.
Well, for tests that were no big deal.. NOW it’s a big deal all over the damn place. Cause he broke that promise to me. And he didn’t tell the doctors. I wasn’t so sure at the time which thing made me the angriest. But anger is anger. And I was definately that.
I don’t get angry very often. But I was this time. The level of it even surprised me. I’m sure Chuck was just as surprised becasue he’d never seen me angry before. Well actually he didn’t seee me angry this time either cause he avoided me through the whole weekend. (Yeah… that was one way to ensure the anger had even more to feed on.) Avoidance isn’t a healthy way to deal with anger.
As the weekend progressed, my anger morphed into other things. Like a little boy’s toy, it transformed into all sorts of ugly. I tried to let it dissipate. Tried to write my way through it by journaling. I wrote him several of those letters that you never send. By Sunday afternoon when my daughter texted to see if I’d heard from Chuck, the anger had turned into crazy thinking. And then finally the tears fell. And fell.
I wasn’t so angry as I was hurt and disappointed. He had broken a promise to me. Lied. Avoided. And worst of all, he was denying.. about his health.
This isn’t a little cold thing or a sore throat that would eventually heal itself. We’re talking big, bad and ugly disease here.
So I did the ‘put myself in his shoes’ thing. I tried to imagine what would be going on in my head to come to the outcomes he was choosing. And I didn’t like what I saw.
Fear of course. Has he given up? Is it that bad already and he’s just not telling me? Does he think I’ll run away if I know?
Finally late on Sunday afternoon, I answered an email he’d sent me earlier in the day. Then he called me. And we talked it out. For a long time. By the end of the call, apologies had been shared, forgivness given. And a new promise made.
Today Chuck called and talked with the doctors. He goes in tomorrow morning for more blood tests. Other testing may be scheduled as well.
I thanked him for facing the monster under the bed. For being brave enough to run across the room and turn on the light so that we can look under the bed together and face that ugly monster head on.