The Truth And Tongue In Cheek.

It is quiet tonight. No late night parties next door, no dogs barking. Blissful and silent. I like these quiet moments, the alone times. I like them because I am not alone and share my life, my days and evenings with my best friend and dear husband. (One and the same.) He gets plenty of time alone as I wander off to walk or to work or to a meeting or coffee with a friend. He gets the early mornings and I get the late nights. It suits us.

His MS is progressing. We spend a lot of time together and apart, waiting, in doctors' offices. In addition to my father (The Pathologist) who initially recognized his great need, my husband has four doctors. The Internist, The Neurologist, The Hematologist and recently, The Opthamologist. We are looking for a remedy, a new drug or procedure or maybe we are just whistling in the dark optimistically searching for that rare sprinkle of hope.

I spend an inordinate amount of time talking to our insurance company to insure we are covered. I talk to the doctors' billing office to insure the insurance we have is in fact the insurance we have will insure that we will not be unexpectedly out of pocket.  Oh, god. So complicated!

We read all the magazines and all the newspaper articles. We search the internet. Because my dad is so well connected, we talk to all the best doctors. Phil's neurologist has even given us his cell phone number! (I don't need advice about the "new" MS treatments.  Please don't share. I'll be polite, but trust me, we know it all already.)

Hmm. You may respond with "Oh, Gosh... How are you both?" Dear friends it is okay.

You know why and you know what? It is what it is. He has a chronic condition, a disease that has no cure. It may kill him. The treatments may kill him. What to do?

We live.

I think, "That's your lot in life Lalena... Can't blame ya..."

We do... well. When Phil feels well, well, he mows the lawn, front and back...a little out of his head, he waters and puts the mower away.  He does the wash. (We don't have a washing machine or dryer, so this is a once a week trek to the laundramat.) He sometimes takes a prescribed pill he tells me is like cocaine that enables him to go about his day. With or without the pill he pays for all of this. There is always a cost. He collapses. He has a hangover from the exertion and from that pill. He has a difficult next day. And yet... after a bit of frustration and a bit of desperation, he recovers enough to regain his cheery self. "Happy Hilow" some people called him. He is. But he doesn't want to live like this. I understand.

So. The glory has to be in the time we spend together. We share so much. We share everything. We spend a lot of time in front of the t.v. but we don't watch the very expensive programming we pay for. We watch Keith and Rachel, we watch Jeopardy and Project Runway. We watch Brothers and Sisters, mostly because I like it, we watch sports and Cash Cab. Oh, and Sunday Morning (we tape that.) I honestly can't think of anything else on network television or cable that we watch with any regularity.  We sit in front of our (finally) flat screen tv and watch netflix or streaming internet television. Brillant!
(So... Doctor Who, Torchwood, all our favorite movies and movies we've never seen... old and new... TWIT tv, old cartoons...endless choices.) OR, we play games.  Bananagrams is our current favorite. He can compete in this game. It is not about fast, it is about creating words. We like it. Sometimes he reads to me while I cook dinner. Sometimes we chat while he does the dishes. Sometimes we read the newspaper together. Sometimes he helps me with the crossword. (Is that cheating?) Sometimes I put out cheese and salami and crackers and hummus and we play music and chat. Sometimes we just take a drive. (We can get out of the neighborhood and into the wilderness in two minutes flat!) Sometimes we go to the candy store. (See's)

See?  We are okay.

It is just life. A life. Our life. We get to share it with each other and we are lucky.

I wish you all the luck and happiness we have found. (Careful, this might be a curse!)