Huntington's Survivor Syndrome

June 22nd in Schaumburg, Illinois is the next fixed point on my calendar. Hubs wants to attend the HDSA National Convention there. I am invited and have accepted the invitation. All I know for certain about the Huntington's Disease which runs in my husband's family is that both my husband is harsh and unpredictable anywhere near the subject. On this subject more than any other, I feel like I am talking my father-in-law far more than I am talking to my husband. I have long let my father-in-law's simplicity summarize my husband's wordy confusions and evasions. "It really is just none of your business, is it." My husband hasn't told me that, himself, but my husband's dialog on the subject is all over the emotional spectrum. The closest I come to simple summaries of his yaddahs inside the HD blahs is, "Ouch." When I can't resist the urge to play psychoanalyst, my dx for his slippery weirds on his family relationship is, "Survivor Syndrome." His Huntington's test came back negative. He does not have the gene, but he was exhibiting quite allot of symptoms when I went wife-akazi on him and bullied him into getting the test. The symptoms abated over the course of the testing procedure. The test, itself, is a simple blood test, but we worked the test through a network which included before and after counseling. There was strong insistence that the patient be accompanied through the process by a close supporter. I accepted that invitation, also. You'd think it would be easier for me to remember the year that happened, but. . . I only bore witness. It is not mine to sort. It was somewhere in the late 90's, I think.

Putting my inner psychoanalst back in her cage now. . .

There is not a doubt in my wife-sense that Huntington's Disease is and always has been a garish shadow over my husband's entire life and my own maternal life, as well as the lives of my sons. The less we talk about ^it^, the more garish the shadows become. Still, it is hard to know where to put my feet in the emotional confusions of it all. For now, I am letting Hubs lead that particular dance. He wants to go to this convention with his Huntington's stricken brother and sister-in-law. He wants me to come. I'm there.

Now, for the weeks between today and June 22nd. . . I still have 2 more days of my declared rest and reflection. I am still sitting on the Chautauqua Ridge atop the Allegheny Reservoir. Thinking to follow the Allegheny River to Pittsburg, then following the south bank of the Ohio River to its confluence with the Wabash River.

Just thinking. . . Letting God lead the dance.