One of my dearest friends lost her sister to cancer two years ago today. She needs quiet and space today. I text her very briefly to let her know my love, empathy and compassion are at the edge of her stillness. I know she’ll find today very hard. I have such a rush of feelings as I reflect on her and her grief. So strong. She lost her Mum to cancer too, so she has history with this vile disease.
I’m in awe of her strength. You’d think she’d run the other way for the ‘C’ word. She’s more than done her time with it already. Except she’s stuck so tight to me since this all kicked off. If you are reading this…. thank you x
I feel sick and light headed but OK enough to work. I dip my toe back into my college role – just let my clients know I am available to see them. Emails get returned and appointments are made. The morning ticks by.
I don’t know what changed or what happened but I had a bagel with peanut butter before my meeting with my supervisor at 13:45pm and I felt totally different. WTF? I felt good! I could breathe in and out in one big gulp. My legs were working. I could bend down and take the washing out of the machine again. Now this is odd. Am I done with the side effects? Is this what happens. They just grab their things and leave? Just like that? This quick? This obvious? My god. My head is spinning – will I feel like this now until cycle #2?
I don’t allow myself to believe any of this – and buy into my fantasy that it is that easy. I stay in the moment and silently chant what resembles gratitude into the air. Hours pass. Still the same. So I have a diet coke. Been avoiding this – more for that fact it tastes like shit now – and the thought of the steel of the can against my metallic lips generates a real apprehension to my senses. This time though….? I TASTE IT! Those nasty tasty vegetable extracts with sweeteners and aspartame are doing their thang’ and dancing in groups of bubbles and sparkles in my mouth!! It’s cold and fizzy chorus makes me hiccup straight away. Bubble trouble! I almost feel sick again. despite the hiccups, I carry on drinking it, ever so slightly smug that I got one over on the side effects. Maybe the caffeine isn’t such a good thing after all?
I make dinner. Yep – make dinner. For the first time in a week, I throw food in the oven and marvel at the fact that I am cutting up a lettuce. Now you may be thinking a week isn’t a long time. On planet cancer time does not exist let me tell you. Minutes disguise themselves as hours. This is especially true when you’re waiting for tests results and appointments.
Today is exactly three weeks since diagnosis. I reflect on the panic, trauma and fear I’ve felt and the psychological effects this has had on me and a sudden unwelcome reaction shows itself in my body. I have just lived through the worse three weeks of my entire life. Sadness consumes me. I cannot feel my fingers. My heart pumps out of my chest. It’s going to crack my rib cage open and the cancer will seep out. I can’t see. The outer edges of my vision blur. Floating black dots dance in front of me. A bloom of anxiety prickles my core. I free fall into a passage where air isn’t available to me. Blackness invades my mind. My breath twists and turns inside my chest. I cannot breathe.
I don’t know what happened next. Or how long this episode lasted.
I’m back in my lounge and sat on the edge of the sofa.
I look around at my husband. He didn’t notice. He doesn’t know where I have just been.
My silent display of frantic agitation takes a bow and leaves the room.