So my WH (ex WH, dday was ten years ago), had a biopsy of a chest skin/soft tissue mass, it was a weird not cancer but has some abnormal not cancer, definitely not pre cancer cells. I’m a physician, so I get the weirdness of this. It is a chest mass that won’t likely become cancer, but they also know it’s not normal.
Anyway. It won’t be his cause of death. Removal will likely involve some pretty nasty stuff, like removal of parts of the sternum or pectoral is muscles. So it’s prolly gonna be a partial resection with positive margins, and chronic scans with follow up until he dies of his actually real and ill-making heart condition in twenty years.
So, he had to get an MRI. He tried to get one earlier for other unrelated issues and freaked out on the MRI table. He had to come back with premedication. (Weed was what I recommended with his heart issues, we live in a weed state). The weed worked great. He smoked up, got scanned, scan was fine, and he got through it.
Fast forward to two weeks later. He has to get another scan for an unrelated issue. He was in total and absolute denial that "he’s got this. He has the answer to getting through this. It’s all in his mind."
He has terrible untreated anxiety. And zero. ZERO. Insight about it. So, as easily predicted, he didn’t premeditate, got on the table and freaked out. Again.
One of these scans is for psychosomatic issues. He was convinced his tension headache were metastatic cancer from this NOT cancer chest lump. His brain MRI was normal. Normal. Normal.
Anyway, he has to get a chest MRI to figure out how invading the chest wall this not cancer thing is, and this is the mri that is actually really needed. And he failed to premedicate, despite my urging, because he prefers the white knuckle technique. In fact, he prefers this in all arenas of his life.
Ask me how that has worked for him. Sigh. Spoiler- it hasn’t.
Anyway, I’m posting here because he made me come back with him to the MRI machine and I secretly enjoyed watching him wriggle his ass out of the machine in a panic.
I’m a terrible person because I didn’t feel sad for him. I actually felt a tiny bit of glee that he was ever so slightly suffering. But I covered it well and only said "I told you so, and you need to get your anxiety treated" once or maybe twice.
Anyway, I come for penance. I will say 20 hail marys and never talk about putting him a wood chipper again.
At times, I am married to a walking Id. Like Freud’s Id, or like the Bene Gesserit animal. No higher ability to face the fear.
Did I mention that I won’t talk about wood chippers anymore?
Sigh. Getting older with him is like watching the karma bus run him over…. It’s actually giving me a bit of justice for the injustices he did me. It’s been a little therapeutic.
I’ve never seen a 250 pound man wriggle out of an MRI machine like that. Uphill, against bolsters and straps.
It kind of feels like that time I talked him into letting me wax his balls….. I got a funny feeling I haven’t had down there in a while…..
9 comments posted: Sunday, June 25th, 2023
Anyone have a WS get terminally ill? And if so, how did you feel after they died?
Hey guys, just a curiosity question as we age….. Has anyone reconciled (we all know it’s not flowers and rainbows and unicorns), and then discovered that your WS has some sort of terminal illness?
What happened when they died? How did you feel? Did you feel relief? Did you think it was karma? Did you have regrets about your anger or your own actions?
6 comments posted: Tuesday, May 9th, 2023
My sister is marrying a wayward man. What do I give them for a wedding present? It is their sixth collective wedding. (moved to
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0 comment posted: Friday, February 3rd, 2023