So I took an early cancel today. So what? So what if I'd been off for four days?
I wonder sometimes why brain tumors seem to hit the really nice people. All of the people I've known with nasty brain tumors, be they gliomas or metastatic cancers, were *nice* people. The guy I've got right now, who has an oligodendroglioma (say that five times fast) is an angel.
You remember all of their faces, you remember all of their names, you remember all of their personalities, even after the tumor takes away their ability to respond or speak.
As long as we're remembered by somebody, we're immortal.
In other news: One of the men I'm seeing filed for divorce yesterday. Long story. I'm hoping that Der Tag will be as anticlimactic for him as it was for me. Rather than having the whole damned history of my marriage blow up in my face in front of a judge, it was quick, clinical, and quiet.
My sister called it a "fleh bomb" and described it thusly: "Something you've been dreading finally arrives in the mail, ticking ominously. You watch it as it sits in the corner until it finally does its thing. It doesn't explode, though: it just dissolves into a puddle of lukewarm goo. And that is a fleh bomb."
Divorce is one of those things, like birth and death, that you have to go through alone. It's not usually as monumental as those other things, though it feels like it at the time...or maybe it is. You have a baby, you adjust to your new life. You die, and presumably you either adjust to your new whatever-it-is, or there's nothing there, so it doesn't matter.
You divest yourself of the person you spent most of your adult life with, and...you adjust.
It's a bare three weeks short of a year since I came home early from work and found my husband and best friend fresh out of bed. It's been less than that since we all divorced. She and he are still living in the same house--the house I grew up in--and I'm in a small apartment in the sort of development I've always despised.
That sounds bitter, and I don't mean it to. A lot of history and a lot of physical space doesn't always give you the mental space you need to make changes. I've become much more myself in the last year, without other people giving me their opinions of what I ought to be or am.
Whatever's happened to them in the last year, I hope they're happy. It would be a terrible waste if three of us were hurt this badly and only one of us turned out as happy as I am.
Home early or not, it's time for bed.