Insomnia and Guilt

Here I am, again. Yet again, Morpheus has passed me by. Yet again, the sandman has forgotten my house. Why can't I sleep? Why can I never just have a peaceful sleep that lasts all night? There's something wrong here, but I don't know if it's just me or something else. Every time I close my eyes, I can see her, pale and shaking. Her body had grown frail and weak, rendering her to a pitiful mass that she hated so much. She was such a strong, proud woman before everything happened....she owned her own company, she had over 100 employees, she had been in a magazine or two because she was so successful at such a young age. She was so beautiful, beyond compare, there were so many things about her that I admired and still admire to this day. What happened...that day, I remember....I was in the kitchen making her some eggs or something for breakfast when she came in the room. I'll never forget the color had drained from her face so fast, and I'll never forget the conversation we had.

"Honey, what is it?" I asked her. I was really worried because she did not get scared. Her lips, beautifully shaped cupids bow set of lips, were white.

"The doctor called. He said it's malignant. I have to go in for a consultation to have surgery later today. Bruce, I'm going to die," she said. She was very sure of this, but me being the good husband I thought I was, I reassured her. Or at least tried to. Nothing I did seemed to help, though. Even now, on my sleepless nights, I try to think of what I could have done differently. I have so much guilt about it because I could have been so much better for her. This was just the beginning, though. There were countless doctor's appointments and surgeries and labs that needed taken care of. She just kept getting sicker. She did everything she could but she refused chemo. I begged her a hundred times to do it, to take every opportunity to save her life, but she refused me every time. I began to feel as if she were being selfish, like she didn't care what all this was doing to me. If she cared, then surely she would do what I said so I wouldn't have to be alone, right? I convinced myself of that. I used it to justify finding someone else for sex while my wife lay in the hospital bed by herself. God, I feel so bad about it. I understand it all now, though. Why she never wanted to do chemo, I think I understand it now. To keep what dignity she had left, to take things into her own hands so she could have some control over what was happening to her. I shouldn't have been the way I was. I know that now. I didn't deserve her, that's for sure. All I can think about at the time was my own comfort, taking care of my own needs and desires. Maybe that was my way of handling it, that's what my therapist says. The support group I go to says it's common for spouses to act out like that, they tell me I didn't know what I was doing. But I knew. Deep down in my heart, I knew exactly what I was doing. That's why I hid it and was sneaking around, I knew it was wrong. But it was the thrill of it that kept me doing it, making me feel like my life wasn't ending just because hers was. I loved that woman more than anything. When I close my eyes at night to sleep, all I can see is her pale face, her eyes filled with disappointment as she looked at me - that's why I can't sleep, if I have to be honest. And I will always be honest in my journal, otherwise how can I grow? At least that's what everyone says. How does someone grow past something like this? My soul mate was ripped from me because this universe is cruel. I wasted all that time I had with her because I was selfish and stupid. So stupid. The last time I saw her, she even hugged me and told me she forgave me. Even at the very end, she was more concerned about comforting me than comforting herself. I don't know if she knew everything, but I'm pretty sure she suspected - I mean, I was leaving the hospital almost every night. But I have a worse secret. Something I can only hope she never found out, even in heaven or wherever she is. I was so busy with ...other women that I spent everything we had saved. Every dollar we had slaved over to save, for the five years we were married, I wasted it all. I don't know what made me do it, I'm not sure what convinced me that was a good idea, maybe the grief? Maybe I'm just a loser? That's why we didn't have the money to pay for the treatment she wanted. The treatment she was very sure could save her life. I don't know if I'm more angry with her or with myself. She could have done the chemo, she could have done everything to save her life. I think I'm more angry with the universe at this point, but I can't tell if that's justified or if I'm just trying to avoid the blame. But because of my stupidity, and I don't know if I'll ever find a way to fix that or make it up to her. If I have to, I'll spend the rest of my life doing good things in her name so she's remembered. At this point, that's all I can do. That's all that's getting me out of bed every day. Even at the very end, she was at her most beautiful point. To this day, this is what keeps me up at night, keeps me writing in my journal.