There has been Doctor Who (end of Tennant, start of Smith, watched for the first time and ZOMGZOMGZOMG. I was bawling THE WHOLE EPISODE dear god).
Work. Work work, today only one day of work, but the fourth day in a fairly big week.
Had a smallish argument over the stupidest thing, fuelled by tiredness on all sides and I’m just sick of tiredness.
This morning, I came home to the news that my man, my love, my, um, big part of my world, may be heading towards partial remission. Scans over the last several weeks show increasing reduction, all the way down to no longer visible in some spots. Hormone scans show nothing active going on behind the scenes. We have gone from stage 4 to stage 2 seemingly overnight.
That’s great. One year ago, we had 70% reduction. We had streamers and balloons and me jumping around like a foolish moron, foolish only because I thought the worst was already over.
As I am writing this, my jaw is clenched so tight I don’t even know how I’m going to relax it.
6 months ago, we were told he had one year to live.
I just. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I am physically and emotionally overwhelmed by the whole day and want it to be over now and all I want to do is cry and be hugged and read something comforting and sleep and not have to get up before 8 o’clock tomorrow.
I'm just having a really hard time right now.