Jinxed

On Friday, Hubby and I had dinner with our friends Renee and Bailey…we haven’t gone out socially in a while.

On the way home, we ruminated that it has been a rather lucky year with regard to health and household- no major illnesses, no major breakdowns, just the odd cold or rash and maybe a cantankerous appliance or two.

With everything on the upswing with regard to my entrepreneurial plans, life seemed pretty effin’ good.

I am so fucking stupid.

I should have known better. As soon as those words left my lips, I wanted to take them back. And I wish I could have because lo and behold, on Saturday morning we discovered that my younger brother has leukemia.

Me and my big mouth, eh?

So here I sit, at my mothers house with my nieces. I drove to Chicago yesterday- dropped my mom at the hospital and grabbed the girls and brought them back here. They have no idea the seriousness of the situation- they think their dad has pneumonia and is in the hospital because that will heal him faster.

It’s not my place to tell them the awful truth, but I’m sure the fact that I can stop spontaneously bursting into tears isn’t helping. There is only so long I can claim to have dust in my eye. If this keeps up, I’m gonna have to chop some onions just to have a cover story. Luckily, my kids love French onion soup.

I’m tired. I’m drained emotionally and I’ve realized that even though I’ve had countless people offer a shoulder, the last thing I want to do is talk to anyone.

And the one person whose lap is usually my safe haven?

Fuck him.

We got into it after dinner on Friday. I told him that we had to talk about his health situation. I watched him barely squeeze himself in and out my (rather roomy) SUV- it took him a rather long time to do both. It was like watching a clown show. I also felt a bit of panic when he sat on a wooden chair at the table (we can’t get a booth because he won’t fit comfortably). Bottom line: This has gotten ridiculous.

So I told him the truth: I can’t sleep because I have nightmares about him dying. I’m scared and frustrated and angry because of his ambivalence. He doesn’t seem to care about what I think, or the fact that his kids would end up completely devastated if something happened to him.

I asked him if he wanted to see a therapist and he insisted that he doesn’t. He got snippy with me and I just walked away. I’ve played this movie too many times not to know the ending: Nothing will change.

On the way back from Chicago, I picked up my kids and took all four of them to a movie. We pigged out on sugar and popcorn and came back to moms house and had a sleepover. My kids are still here- they don’t know the dire state of things, but they’re managing to keep their younger cousins occupied (thank God).

Wait- THANK God?

Um. I don’t think so. Not this time.

I know that I have a support network. I have Renee and Maria and any number of people to cry to. But I don’t want to. I feel like a burden. What are they going to say? Why make them feel helpless too? What’s the point?

Sigh. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go buy some onions.