Chuck had been even more afraid and nervous throughout this entire ordeal than me. When he's nervous, and feels like life is out of control, he tends to hover, control and overprotect, which makes me feel smothered. That hurts his feelings, which makes me feel guilty, etc., and off we are, down a rabbit hole spiral of codependency. At this point, he was taking over more and more of each of my doctors' visits, talking for me, answering for me, and becoming upset with me if I tried to participate in discussions. He was driving me crazy, and seemed to be annoying everyone else as well. (Having had no sex for a while did nothing to improve the situation. Neither of us do well with celibacy.)
My way of handling things is to try to be sensitive, considerate and polite, and to get a word in edgewise whenever possible -- for a while. Then I blow. I endured my visit with the oncologist, during which Chuck monopolized the discussion and gave me dirty looks every time I tried to ask a question...and my visit with the radiology oncologist, ditto.
I'd finally had it with trying to spare his feelings. When he announced that I needed to change my appointment time for my radiology treatments so that he could come with me, I told him NO. I backed up and let loose all the resentment I had been building up, and told him that I felt he was taking over my illness, treatment and life, and that that was not okay.
He, of course, immediately became defensive and hurt, saying that he wouldn't say anything anymore. I calmed down. I am well aware that his behavior stems from his deep love and fear of losing me. I explained to him that I was not telling him not to talk at all -- only that he should not crowd me out of my own treatment. Although he heard me, he is so compulsive that I knew he will never be able to control himself. Therefore, I decided that I would just have to kick him hard under the table. I have found that a little physical behavior modification goes a long way, much further than a request.