In unrelated news, a collection of knitting cartoons. Called It Itches.

Hubby update:

Next 4 Fridays, up to Cancer Center for surgeries, tests, first round of chemo. Tomorrow there's a lung test that he said "scares me." If all goes well, the rest of the chemos will be done down here.

Doable, but I'm going to have to cope with his daughter, who will meet us at the train and drive us to the center. By all rational measures, she has as much right to be there as I do. But just the thought of having to cope with her in this situation makes me want to weep. I don't want to fucking bond, I don't want to have to be understanding of her grief, I don't want to.

He's scared out of his mind, he keeps fucking apologizing to me, I don't want to try and untangle 30 years of father-daughter relationship. He said, "Oh, she'll be working on her homework." Yeah, right. She's a chatterer, she wants to be able to call me Mom. I am not maternal. I cannot be maternal in this situation. He says he's explained it to her, but I've met her, I think she thinks Lifetime movies are a good model of behavior.

I'm only going to be able to bite back my own reactions so far, and it's going to get ugly, which he so does not need to deal with. I comfort one person in this universe. It's not her.

The above brought to you by an unfeeling bitch with no respect for a father-daughter relationship that's suffered over the years and who is digging around in the muck of her soul to even find the decent feeling to even feel sorry about that. And who is not finding it.

Fuck it

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break Bitches. By being one.

The cancer center wants to do research on Hubby, because they don't see his cancer that often. I think I shall ask if we get royalties for this, to watch them squirm. Though research for the greater good and all that. Turns out his type of cancer is more common in the Nordic regions. But Germany has done good work on treating it. Go go, Team Nordic Mutants!

Teppy - insent on a whole nother matter.

Connie, you're not a bitch. You're in pain, too. You get to grieve in your own way, the same as she or anyone else does. It's hard to deal with your own sorrow when you to have to also deal with people whose grieving process is intrusive. For me, dealing with my sister's grief was actually harder than dealing with my mother's illness. Go easy on yourself.

What Zen said, Connie.

Connie, I'm so sorry you have to deal with this crap. It's a load you don't need.

Tomorrow there's a lung test that he said "scares me."

I can't imagine how scary that was to hear from him of all people.

Is there a way to split some of your time waiting, Connie? One person can go take a walk or whatever gets you in separate corners for a while?

She has a right to be there but that doesn't mean you have to bond when you seem to expect it to go really badly.

Hell, my Stepmom and I battled when Dad first got sick. And I love her. She loves me. She's been my Dad's partner since I was four six. It was still a fraught situation because we were both just scared to death of losing him.

Connie, I like the idea of royalties.

Sweet weeping Moses. The rose killer is in the yard at 1:30am.

Now, she's hacked them all to the ground. I can't even.

I offered to tell my landlord the perpetrator's name...since she did not do the honorable thing herself. To his uncharacteristic credit, he passed. "What's done is done."

This was, of course, before the entire lot was denuded.

what the WHAT? I mean, sure, roses can tolerate a good amount of well-intentioned but poorly executed pruning, but there's gotta be SOMETHING left. Killing other people's plants is not OK. Especially roses, they are so lovely when in bloom, thorns or no.

eta: oh wait, she's crazy. Son probably talked to her in the "wrong" way which ratcheted her up to make things worse. OMG.