I'm not sure where to start really, I don't want to talk about it so I'm writing it down instead. It's a situation I've been brushing under the carpet for too long and now I realise I have no choice but to face it head on. I've never been sympathetic; always wanted to be an optimist and hope bad news never comes my way. My dad was the same. I guess I take after him. I just wish I had his strength, too. I don't want to be scared about something that is classed as 'routine', yet is thought of as 'has to be done'. But I am. I'm absolutely fucking terrified. I don't deal with illness very well, and death just reminds me of the worst day of my life when my dad passed away. Why does the human body have to be so fragile? I can't imagine what The Farmer is going through because he hasn't talked about it much to me. And as I don't want to talk about it either, I end up listening to him talking on the phone, telling friends about the operation he will be having next week.
I clam up. I'm pathetic. I know life isn't a bed of roses; I learned that when Amy was diagnosed with autism. But I know The Farmer is worried. He made a will, something that he knows should have been done years ago yet has taken a routine operation to spur him into action. He's 62. He had a heart attack about thirteen years ago and though this operation is nothing to do with his heart, it's still an issue when he'll be under anaesthetic. It seems like there's always something; something to deal with that isn't your average every day stuff. And I don't know how to deal with it. I've buried my head in the sand, all the while knowing how concerned and anxious my husband is. He knows I'm worried but I'm trying to be brave; I'm trying to pretend that I'm not nervous about him being out of action for six weeks, about him being a hospital inpatient for at least four days. I've got just under a week to get my head out of the sand and act like a grown up, and a wife. Right now I feel like a frightened little girl, wondering if life will ever be the same. I want to say I can cope and I want so much to say everything will be okay. But inside I'm breaking up. I want to stop thinking another man in my life may leave me. So you think I'm being melodramatic? Try living in my head where the sun always shines and meadows beckon me to twirl round to heavenly music. I'll stay optimistic. And I'll keep telling myself that my romantic notions have worth; then I'll fall asleep and wake up to the sound of life beside me.
When dawn breaks they ask me how I am; I say, "I'm fine...you?" Why do I say that? Why don't I say, "look into my eyes, how do you think I look? I feel like shit but I'll tell you I'm fine because it's easier." That way I don't need to talk about my fear. Sometimes, when The Farmer holds me, I feel frightened to let him go just in case I never get the chance to hold him again. I want to stop missing my dad every fucking day and I want to stop crying when I look into his eyes. My Farmer may one day not be here either and that scares the hell outta me. But I'm fine. Just like everything else, I'll get over it and move on. One day I'll look down on my life and see only the good bits - the bad bits will be yesterday's fish and chip paper. I'll hold onto those memories, the good ones, and I'll say, "look at me, I'm fine." And I will be.