There are a whole lot of "what ifs" going through our heads right now. There is the bronchoscopy tomorrow and there is Chris's gradual decline. There are doubts.
We are talking about some of the what if stuff and trying to manage our worries, together and separately.
Chris is mainly focused on facing what is immediately in front of him with the bronch, the trial, and just getting through each day. He is very tired.
I am thinking wildly. Lots of thoughts. Lots of possible futures. When I get going on a what if spasm, it can become a whole set of multiverses that I feel compelled to master with planning and strategies. These spiral out infinitely, until even I can see how useless fretting can be.
We are both faced with huge mental tasks... and yet, we find the energy and will to bicker.
Yup, bicker. We still pick at our old peccadilloes, well worn through a couple of decades. These are the marital sticking points everyone has, and we are still at it.
Even though we are both still convinced that the other is wrong for their part of the argument, the tone is changed. Today, there was a quality of nostalgia in the old tug-of-war. It was kind of comforting to dance the old steps of contesting. It felt closer to normal us.
What a strange way to feel better.
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