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And I Tell Him

"Nothing's changed."

I stared at him, mouth hanging open.  Is he crazy?  EVERYTHING has changed! And I tell him so. A little too loudly.

"Stop. It's ok to be upset.  But don't close your ears to what I have to say."

Close my ears?  What kind of saying is that? It's a stupid saying.  And I tell him that.  A little too loudly.

"Prostrate cancer has a very high cure rate.  Let's take it step by step."

I refuse to take it step by step; I want giant leaps.  The first leap will be for me to grow up.  About time at 46 years old.  And I tell him that.  A little too softly, but he hears me.

"Grow up?  You are grown up.  Just because I call you brat, doesn't mean you're a child.  It's a personality trait."

Fuck personality traits.  I will handle this like an adult!  Like a Top!  I'll show him.  And I tell him.  A little too harshly.

"The cancer's in my prostrate; not my hand."

Suddenly I'm across his lap.  His hand slaps down.  And again.  And again.  A little too accurately.

"We've made it through a lot.  We'll make it through this too."

I'm not sure I believe him, but I trust him with all my heart.  I love this man.  And I tell him.


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