Up and down – symptoms here – symptoms not. Hot flushes ahoy – take temperature but it’s fine. Menopause? Tacky head – a blast of fire through my cheeks and a glaze of sweat on my forehead. I look like a Christmas ham! Wouldn’t it be just fab if I went through menopause on the background of chemo? I’m so busy concentrating on the cancer/chemo side effects, it doesn’t really register?
One part of my body makes a big song and dance about it’s disturbance where another part does it quietly, more graciously? Think of it like this – the main feature film is what you leave the cinema remembering – not the adverts at the beginning. Come on Mother Nature… be kind – give me this experience please!! A small reward for all my body’s hard work fighting cancer and surviving chemo.
I cleared the air with my husband this morning. We both cried and shared our feelings. I told him how angry I’m feeling and how I just want to run away and go through this on my own. He’s desperate to help, but I know even he can only be pushed so far. I can feel him bowing under the pressure, almost snapping under the force of what he his trying to cope with. He is dealing with me, his own feelings and his children’s feelings too. I am aware they talk to him and he to them. Although I am totally comfortable and encourage it – a tiny piece of me feels left out of the loop and disregarded. I want to be there for him – for them – but I can’t fully be this time as this situation revolves around me. They need their space – their freedom to talk to him and whoever else they want to. I am learning they’re resilient, tough and will cope.
I’m learning I have contributed to their upbringing and I have helped equip them with their voices. I have always promoted unconditional positive regard and encouraged them to speak their minds and take ownership of their identities. I want them to always feel valued and cared for. I have to trust they can fulfill their needs and find other suitable people who can support and love them through this. My husband is more than capable – so I have to stand back a little now and trust the process.
Getting the balance right between stepping back from them and letting them facilitate their own path is not easy for me to get right. I am finding myself staying silent or worse, saying too much. I am getting this wrong and I am making mistakes. I am trying so hard to accept they will manage without their full-on Mum and still be OK and get through this chapter in our family’s history. I just wish more than anything right now, this was a bad dream and I was about to wake up.
Today I did go out. We went to buy a carpet and a chair for my therapy room which is now almost complete. It looks amazing and is totally down to my husband’s hard work, foresight, imagination, and very particular requirements! He has done an outstanding job of designing it and arranging it’s formulation. The boys he has had construct it, have produced a room we can both use now for work. I’m looking forward to welcoming clients in there – when I can back to work full time – back to doing what I love and filling my time productively.
I sit in my newly purchased chair in the showroom, while he chooses the carpet. I am so tired. I close my eyes. Maybe too soon to venture out after chemo – but I did feel OK and well this morning. I wanted to get out and spend some time with him and be part of some of the process of our new room. The space between us now is cleaner, and more calmer since we talked this morning. It is good to feel him close to me and my ‘mind’ again.
He makes food tonight – kids are at work, so just three of us in. It’s quiet at home and the weather is so dull and damp outside it feels like winter. We order more furniture online and don’t do much else with our Saturday night. I am worn out, but happy.
The sickness has behaved itself. My injections have started tonight and the achy legs come back with them too. I load up with pain relief and nod off.