The dancing slows way down

So, after feeling very optimistic about Dear Husband’s doctor visit, the reality of what we are facing began to sink in, and we investigated the procedure he’s to undergo. The possible ramifications for a 34 year old are depressing and daunting. Besides a possible yearlong recovery, the final end result will be that he can catheterize himself to send medicine into his bladder. Doesn’t that sound fun? We won’t be able to have any more children, but that’s okay. The main concern is impotence. Some websites say that this is temporary, but who knows, really. I don’t think his doctor has ever encountered this condition in someone so young. Dear Husband is angry and scared. I was feeling rather optimistic. Then he reminded me that the surgery is just a first step. The idea of catheterizing himself makes him feel ill. As he said to me last night “I’m just starting out—I don’t even have a career yet, just a job!” To him it looks like his quality of life is going straight into the toilet along with any chance of living normally. And he doesn’t want me to be cheerful and optimistic about it. I understand that. I remember when Child 2 was born at 28 weeks how annoying it was to hear people try to put a positive spin on it, even though (and here’s the odd part) I actually was convinced inside myself that she would survive and thrive. And even though I thought it would be okay, that didn’t mean I wasn’t assailed by fear, anger and sadness. That’s where Dear Husband is, and I need to find the best way to be a comfort and support to him.