I admit my blogging has been exiguous. Mostly, this is because I've been working quite hard at my job now that I've been transferred to the corporate office, but also because there is less of the sort of thing going on that lead to the creation of this blog. That's a good thing, and it has led to things like Ann's solo trip to Houston.
Ann's trip to MDA without me has caused a breakthrough in my thinking. Each journey there is like a big-event and is proceeded by (for me at least) a week's worth of humorless worry and crushing anxiety. So much depends on those trips that I have long given up on the idea of routine exams and I made sure that I was there each time so I could hold her hand.
Ann and I spent every day on the 8th floor of the Clark Clinic at MDA for what seemed like years. Without too much difficulty I can remember with a voluminous mix of despair and dread everything we fought so hard to overcome while there: induction, blindness, wheelchairs, having no home, desperate donor searches, insurance denials, transplant, relapse and transplant again.
I could have taken vacation or sick time to go with her, but I didn't. I could have begged off of my reports and deadlines until the end of the week, but I didn't. I don't think I would have lost my job. So why did I let her go alone this time? Why did I allow her to go and face the beast without even moral support?
My sneaking suspicion is because I needed to, and she needed me to let go just as badly. Which is not to say that I don't feel one iota less guilty about not being there.
Life pushes toward its normal equilibrium in the absence of a crisis. Feeling scared, anxious, or guilty are just bi-products of that process and we can't control it. Ann needed to be able to do something big without support. I needed to focus on work and put my anxiety away. And she needed me to do this as well.