So it's finally here. The week where W. goes into the hospital to have part of his lung removed. It's still kind of surreal - almost so that I find it hard to really believe that it's happening.
I'm somewhat of mixed emotions on this whole process. Obviously I'm worried out of my mind about the whole cancer/surgery/hospital part of it. That part of me is sympathetic and concerned and worried. But this other crazy part of me is almost resentful. Isn't he supposed to be the strong one, the healthy one?
I hate the whole business and I can't wait for it to be over so we can go back to our normal lives. I'm not good with being the care-taker, the nurturer. It goes against all my instincts and it makes me uncomfortable. It's really hard for me to deal with this.
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