Exhausted. In one word. Emotionally and mentally wiped out entirely, which then translates into physical fatigue. Although this is most likely going to be nothing compared to when I start radiation and chemo. I’ve barely been sleeping … the mind clicks away a mile a minute. When I do fall asleep I’m awake again soon after. It’s like my astral body does not want to leave. Like it wants to stay in the physical and etheric bodies as much as it can. Why I wonder. Is sleep too scary? All I want to DO is sleep. Sleep my life away right now, sleep forever. (And NO, before anyone takes that the wrong way, I don’t mean I want to die!!) Sleep is oblivion. Oblivion is bliss (and avoidance). And I’m just flat out, bloody exhausted.
I’m so exhausted I can barely move a muscle, even to type, but type I must to journal this out.
Everyone has exclaimed at how brave and strong I’ve been. I wonder do all people with cancer get this comment when people first find out? Yes, I have been calm, and peaceful, and happy even. Cracking jokes about it (which my sisters thought funny but my parents weren’t amused at yesterday’s Easter Sunday get-together lol!). This twilight time between diagnosis and prognosis. This interminable waiting. I just want it out. It’s there, the tumour, hurting, physically hurting and aching 24/7 (that scares me).
But it’s starting to get dark. I’ve crawled up to the edge of the abyss a few times, peered over, and scrambled back in a hurry when I’ve caught glimpses of the horror that lies in it.
“I have breast cancer” is now a fact that is lodged in my brain and I can’t forget it, not for a minute. Waking up sucks. That moment when you remember ’oh, that’s right, I have breast cancer. Fuck.’
The fear comes in waves. It’s not fair. First, the fear of waiting to find out what the mammograms say. Then the fear of what the needle biopsy says. Okay. I have cancer. I know that now. Next the fear of what the chest x-ray and liver ultrasound says (I have those done first thing tomorrow and get the results at the surgeon’s visit on Wednesday afternoon). Will I have it in my lungs and liver? I’m terrified now. I’ve had one lot of bad news when I really didn’t expect it. Now I’m afraid THIS will be bad news, and then the NEXT one will be bad news … being after the operation. Will it be in my lymph nodes? Will they have got enough margin around the tumour itself? It never stops. It’s one step after another, I realise that. But these steps are too bloody slow. I’m the kind of person who wants details. I need to know what exactly this thing is so we can get on with getting rid of it.
I’m frightened, too, for my very life. This has the potential to kill me. If we manage to get rid of it and I’m given the all clear, it can also recur. This isn’t me being maudlin and negative. These are facts. More facts—less than 22% of women with breast cancer are young women (in breast cancer terms this means anyone under the age of 50 I think).
I’m not writing this for attention getting, to draw out messages “bucking me up” and telling me I shouldn’t be “giving in to it” or “having negative thoughts”. No. It’s like David said in relation to the Michael Meditation (paraphrasing), ’to achieve what the Meditation asks would purge ourselves of our humanness, and we must allow ourselves some frailty.’ And he’s right. Nobody can be let go and be strong all of the time. We are human and will necessarily have our dark times. And we must be allowed to have our dark times. So if I’m being a little down at times, and I will because it’s natural, then let me express it. You don’t need to buck me up 🙂
I’m worried and sad for my little boy. How is he expected to cope with all of this? He will necessarily be spending a lot of time away from me. When I have radiation, I will have to travel south and stay there all week for 5 weeks, only coming home for weekends. When I’m having chemo and I’m ill after each round of medicine (poison), I will need to be staying at my parents. I wish he didn’t have to have the memories of a sick mummy (and let’s hope that’s ALL he has to deal with). I don’t want him hurting, obviously. I don’t want him worrying. I found an excellent website today, Breast Cancer Network of Australia which has excellent information and support kits. They have publications on how to tell children, how to deal with cancer when you have children. I’ll be ordering those tomorrow. As well as putting myself in contact with the local breast care nurse because I’m tired of waiting waiting waiting to be put in contact with the people I need in my support team.
Young women with breast cancer have a different set of issues and worries than do the usual age bracket. We have children to worry about, a lot of us … how they are coping with it. We have careers (or in my case, study) to worry about. We have fertility to worry about. Chemo, radiotherapy, and what do we have for dinner? And worse … I’m a single mother. A single mother with no boyfriend or partner or husband to help around the house, to take up the slack, to comfort my boy, to comfort me … to lay in bed and hold me, to let me cry in his arms. None of that for single mums with cancer. Yes, we’ve got a hard road, even with the love and support of family and friends. We still have a house to look after by ourselves and none of the really intimate support that those with partners have. And, of course, the worry that we never will have. Not because we think we are going to die, but because breast cancer attacks our very femininity. It mangles and deforms our breasts. And of course we lose our hair. Crowning glory and best assets … hair and breasts, things that are essential to our feelings of femininity. Yes, the hair grows back, and it might sound vain to be so worried about losing it, but hair is something that defines our view of ourselves. I love my long dark hair. And I’m particularly partial to having eyebrows and eyelashes.
I’m not the sort of person who would ever say “oh, I have cancer, that’s it I’m going to die” (unless the facts prove conclusively that it is so). I AM a tough little thing, as fragile as I am … I know, contradictory but that’s me J I’m definitely resilient … I’ve gotten back up SO many times before and I will again this time (nobody here knows my full life story except for Helena and even then there are bits she’s not aware of).
Yes I am strong. And maybe brave. But I am also frightened, worried, angry (you’d think sisters that have been through their own cancer battle would be the biggest pillar of support, wouldn’t you, instead of turning it into a cancer competition), sad … I’m having to let go of some hopes and dreams … I will most likely never have another child for instance, and more dearly held dreams, uncertain of my future, panicky, and all the other myriad of feelings that come along with cancer. That is normal. I am human.
I’m also learning the lessons that people with cancer or other life-threatening illnesses learn. Learning them incredibly fast. About love, caring, about the support network we all have around us with family and friends. We are all blind to it, to some extent or another, until something this drastic happens. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the love and caring shown by the people I care about, the people that care about me, acquaintances and even strangers. People are beautiful. (In the majority hehe). Sunlight slanting through my front door at that particular moment late afternoon is so beautiful. The bird song around here all day long is beautiful. It all sounds so clichéd but we take the people around us, everything around us, life, for granted.
That’s a lot of stuff to have churning around in your head in such a short time frame. And it’s bound to get worse over the ensuing weeks, until I know exactly what it is I am dealing with and have a treatment plan in place and working.
Phew. I really do feel a bit better after having written this.
Edit: And I didn’t talk about the worst thing about diagnosis. Kylie Minogue said it was as if a nuclear bomb hit. Her first thought was “oh, my poor parents”. That’s the worst part of diagnosis. Not worry about yourself, but the sadness at seeing what it does to the people you love, whether here or on the other side of the world.
 |
Currently listening : Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band By The Beatles |