A confession

Today was the cast party for David's show that closed last Sunday. We made a pot roast in the slow cooker to take to the party. I prepped it and had it in the fridge and David set his alarm and got up at three a.m. to turn it on so it would be piping hot and ready for the afternoon party at Kyle & Dave's house. Pretty easy and we really like to take hearty food to such parties. I like to feed people and meat and potatoes or an awesome ham/corn chowder is usually quickly eaten up.

We had a good time. Jackson's playmate Alex was there and the two of them played really well and entertained each other and everyone else. It was a good day of talking kids and theatre in the hot tub. Not such a bad life.


I have been a little introspective lately, thinking about where to go in my life from here. Baby? Theatre? Feeling done with illness and such. My hair is growing out and looking ok. Money is getting a little tight and we are trying not to look at the 401k. Don't figure there is any point. It either disappears or it doesn't and to tell you the truth I have never felt any security in that and the promise of social security for retirement. I pretty much have always figured on it not being there. I didn't and don't think it can last and certainly not till I am in my late 60's and need it. I don't trust our lawmakers, who will never have to live on it, to guard it for those of us who will. And this current plundering of the taxpayer wallets so that the millionaires don't feel any pain doesn't make me any more confident. Of course my personal situation makes me care even less about retirement since I pretty much doubt that I will live to an old age. You know, that cancer thing and all. And I am almost sometimes ok with that. I want to live, of course, but I somehow feel like if I want it too badly, if I focus on it too much, I will jinx the possibility. So I don't count on it and try not to think about it.

Try, I say. I try not to think about it. Not so successful when you can't sleep in the wee hours of the morning. I have come to some interesting conclusions about my own mortality. Most interesting is my fear of losing people close to me. I have thankfully not experienced the untimely death of a loved one. And the thought of that is so unbelievably, painfully, breath-taking that I wonder if I could even go on. If I could survive it. The loss of a child, a spouse, a parent too, too young. I push these thoughts as far from me as I can in an attempt to pull a child's "I can't hear you, la la la la la!" I say to myself and anyone listening that I would rather have the cancer myself, I am happy to have it rather than my son or my husband. I will do it. I can handle it. But I sometimes wonder in the depths of my psyche if it isn't possible that I got cancer, that I have the specter of dying painfully young simply so I can avoid the immense terror of losing someone else. Do you see? I have to go first. I simply couldn't bear it any other way. Is this my bargain with the universe? Take me, not them.

Now how fucked up is that? I am sure I will hear all kinds of opinions. But this thought has been beating around in my brain for some time now and I guess I just had to get it out.