Last Christmas?

I had a long and vivid dream and wake up as the sun is deciding to rise. I'm congested which made my mouth parched breathing through my mouth. I reach for my drawer full of meds organized in small rectanguar wood boxes for the decongestant spray. 

My medications are organized into morning and evening and know which order they're lined up so I reach for them in the dark. My late mother used the same brand of spray as I'd commandeered a bottle of it from her home when she'd passed. We lived there while liquidating her estate. I've since bought more than a few of her Synex sprays, but still haven't used up all of the Reynolds aluminum foil she'd stocked up on. I lay there for a moment after clearing my breathways (thanks mom) and realize I may also have to pee. 

I debate for a few minutes and slowly get out of our king-sized bad and try not to disturb my wife and twin bijon pups that nestle up against Mrs Seeking Boston. It's dark in the room. I skip putting on the robe even though it's quite cold with a recent dusting of snow. 

As I make the first few steps on the cold hardwood floor, my pelvis has sharp pain. The stage four prostate cancer has metastisized to the bone. I steady myself for the first few steps with the long dresser at the foot of the bed on the way to our bathroom. My prostate and bladder debate whether or not it's time to go and they both decide it's okay to go. 

I return to the bedroom as I see the silhouette of the Christmas tree in the front window of the Living Room. A dark yet light reminder that I survived one year since my diagnosis but I wonder if this is the last time I'll see the tree. 

I'm not a defeatist but the pain of late brings the devil in my thoughts at night of my mortality. I return to bed and take a few gulps of cold water from my metal water bottle. I take my Zytiga which is part of my hormone deprivation cancer treatment. 

As the cancer feeds off my testosterone, the pills diminish the hormone. I equate it to cancer is a dinosaur and testosterone is it's food we have to deprive it from. It's cold in the room and I check the Nest thermostat from the app on my phone and it's 62 degrees. I turn it up to 65 as it's our preferred temperature. I like it cold as a symptom of the drug is hot flashes. 

My wife jokes that it's my "manopause." I pull the cool sheets and comforter up to my chin. I hear my wife half awake. I roll over close to her and wrap my left arm around her warm body. She tells me that one of the twins is behind her. She tells me this as "Finch" who is sometimes sensitive to abrupt touch--this would disrupt the morning peace. I kiss her on the forehead and tell her I love her. Half asleep she returns the phrase. I hold the embrace for another moment and roll back over to pull up the heating pad from the floor and set it to the medium setting and place it on my pelvis after taking something for the pain. I'm at peace and hope that all three of my (adult) kids can make it for Christmas. I drift off to sleep again.