all the world's a stage
For me, it boils down to context. This was a performance for his maid cafe. Typically in a maid cafe, the guest is the focus of the event. The maids and butlers of the cafe dote on the guests, shower them with attention, serve them a light snack, and perform song and dance numbers for them (usually something in the bubblegum pop genre).
That's not what happened here. His butler persona was aloof and detached because he found it amusing to get guests uncomfortable. His performance was an extended cut of "I'm still standing" that lasted nearly five minutes. His performance was unpracticed and included an extended dance break for which nothing was choreographed. It felt a bit like a grade school talent show except they had accepted payment. It was clear he felt this was HIS show, everyone had paid to come see him, and we were all just accessory to it.
Life with him was much the same. It was his show and I was simply an accessory. It never mattered how things actually were, as long as they appeared alright from the surface and the focus remained on him.
A week after getting out of the hospital I was having some significant complications. My tummy tube hurt terribly. I couldn't stand up straight. Walking was encouraged to help rebuild some strength but it hurt so badly I was in tears after just a few yards. I knew I have a high pain threshold and for the pain to be that intense with narcotics couldn't possibly be right.
After making several calls to home health care and then an on call nurse it was decided we needed to go to an emergency room in a bigger city with an experienced radiology team in case I needed surgical intervention.
He was at a convention for his maid cafe (I'm only now questioning why that was where he chose to spend the weekend knowing that I had been in extreme pain). When I messaged to let him know we were going to Indianapolis he asked several times if I wanted him to come. (Which again felt odd). At my request he finished his set and drove to meet us there.
Every small bump in the road created searing pain in my abdomen. I held a pillow to my stomach and tried to focus on breathing for the three hour trip. When we finally got to the hospital and immediately were taken back to a room where they started IV fluids and let me know they would need to probe the area (medical speak for jam a qtip in and see what comes out).
Some time between then and the actual procedure, he finally got to the hospital bringing drama in tow. He explained to us all how his mom was "crazy" and "just went off on him for no reason". He showed us text messages of a conversation where she told him she didn't believe that he would leave his show to come to the ER. That doubt would make a lot more sense in a few short months, but at the moment we didn't have reason to question his motivation.
I was exhausted and on some pretty heavy painkillers, so in the moment I was just thankful he was there. It didn't register that he was still talking about how he had been victimized as I sat leaning against my dad because laying down hurt too much.
A painful probe and a CT scan later the problem was found. In placing the feeding tube it had gone through the muscle which caused a hematoma (a really bad bruise) and the pocket of old blood had then become infected with cellulitis (which tends to spread rapidly and was the cause of my only hospital stay until my cancer diagnosis). It had spread to my abdominal wall which was why any movement hurt so badly.The nurses were back and forth about admitting me overnight but we requested to stay and have IV antibiotics and fluids to jumpstart the process given my history with this type of infection.
My husband headed home as it was Saturday night and he needed rest before his next set of cafe performances Sunday afternoon. He was sure to tell me and my parents that he would dedicate his songs to me before he left. My dad found a nearby hotel to stay in, and my mom stayed in the recliner in my room.
As months went by I realized that it really didn't matter much to him what was actually going on as long as long as he appeared to be the loving doting husband. I quickly figured out that he had told everyone that he had contact with about my cancer diagnosis. It was his excuse for losing his job, his excuse to get out of social engagements, and a "fun fact" he chose to spread far and wide. There were people who didn't know my name only knew me as "his wife who has cancer".
At the time of my diagnosis I told my family, those who I knew I couldn't avoid telling (my jobs and the game group we were regularly attending) and three of my closest friends. I didn't want anyone's pity or sympathy. I didn't want to be seen as this poor fragile creature that needed tending to.
I can't count the number of times I begged him to please take into consideration that I didn't want this to be common knowledge. I didn't want to be "the cancer girl". It didn't matter that I didn't want the attention. He did.
As months went by, I started getting fed up and finally started calling him out on his behavior.
Had he sent this same message earlier in the relationship I would have believed him. There were many times I did. The words alone are sweet and tender. But his actions had already proven them untrue.
I still believe that someone who enjoys the limelight can bring balance for someone like me who prefers to stay out of it. Just be sure if you choose someone who views life as a performance, you take the time to make sure they see you as more than just a prop.
