In my desperate search for answers I am back on the internet and pretty much spend the next 2 days there. I look for blogs – I want to read similar stories to my own. I want to talk about how I am feeling. I am aware of this constant noise in my head – I name it ‘cancer chatter’. It never ever stops, slows or takes a break. But I keep feeding it too. It is a dysfunctional relationship I am having with myself. I am no longer able to deal adequately with my thinking. I have been consumed by my cancer and it’s consequences. It is eating me alive and as each hour of these few days pass I am at its mercy. Desperate for control, I subscribe to the Cancer Research ‘cancer chat’ discussion site. Ironic really as I had already named this pollution in my mind something similar. I see it as a sign. I am so flipping nervous as I type my first post. I have never done anything like this before. I have read so many and they all seem to know what they are talking about. I feel like a grain of sand on a huge beach and have no idea what I really want to ask. But the words find a way through. After just a few short minutes I have pressed ‘post’ and it is done. I have told strangers I have cancer and I am looking for their support. This is mad. I am going mad. My world is mad.
I love the beach. I was brought up living close to it and have never been far from it since. I am less than a mile from my nearest beach. I want to go and sit there on my own. I want to scream into the wind and the tide and cry hot salty tears. I want to feel sorry for myself. WHY ME? Why now? The fear grips me but I can’t get out of my house. I dare not drive. I am so prickly and sore – the pain is more than physical now. I have pain and tenderness in my breast but what I feel has accentuated my whole being. There is a definite feeling of disassociation going on. Or maybe it is a feeling of dispersonalization? I am feeling like I am a robot- not in control of my speech or movements. I have the sense that my body, legs or arms appear distorted, enlarged or shrunken. My head is wrapped in cotton wool. I am experiencing an emotional and physical numbness of my senses and responses to the world around me. I cannot relate to myself and I do not feel real. My house and family look the same but I am not seeing them the same.
My only solid memory of these few days was of my hoovering the lounge. I just broke down in tears and fell to the floor. The next I know I am talking to my sister. ‘I can’t do this’….. or something similar slips from my lips. She catches the words and listens. She is actually quite good at rationalizing my thinking. I am not one for reaching out to others when I am in pain. I contain it, deal with it and wait for it to pass. This tactic will not work now. I am being told over and over by my closest allies to let them in and let them listen. This is not going to be easy for me to do. I am the counsellor for heaven’s sake. I need to listen to you – to empathize with you. I do the soothing – you do the recovery. The tables have turned and I am well out of my comfort zone. This is bad enough. But, still, crawling through the back of my mind, are the very real and very desperate thoughts, that I have no idea if I am actually dying, or whether or not I will make it to see my eldest daughter’s 18th birthday. If you have ever have death whisper in your face you may understand the total fear that accompanies this. I know I have cancer eating a part of me alive. I can see that. It is visible. But I cannot see if it is anywhere else. I feel it is similar to having a panic attack. I have had a few in my time – triggered by anxiety from flying. You can never actually ‘loose your mind’, but you can feel that you have lost control of your thoughts, reactions and body; like you on the verge of going crazy or becoming hysterical.
I keep looking back to my emails – has anyone responded to my post? Has anyone got the answers I am still waiting for? Please will someone tell me it hasn’t spread and I am going to live.
I did not get a response until the following morning. I will be honest with you. I was a little sad that no one had gotten back to me earlier. How stupid a feeling is this? I felt lost a little – not important enough? There goes my trigger – ‘rejection’. I know this little fella of old. He loves to have his presence felt and he is so going to love this now eh? Of course I am being ridiculous.
Then one after another, they drip in to my inbox. I had to stop myself checking my emails like some mad teenager craving the ‘likes’ on their Facebook. I am delighted – I am talking to people who have cancer too and who are scared too. One of my responses comes from a woman who is through her diagnosis and is waiting tests. I so want to be her. Crazy isn’t it? The care and kindness are alive on these emails and I soaking in the warmth of them. I even start to reply to other posts too – to give my love and support to others who are struggling. There is so much positivity on these pages. You don’t read that so much on Google. You get the bad stories and the deaths and the memories of loved ones. Here is a little different. There are woman on here with over 5000 posts to their name – in remission – but still desperate to reach out to others, like me, who are new to the club.
I have wine tonight. It is Friday. It takes the edge off for me. I allow the glimmer of the possibility to leak into my awareness with my husband. I might actually live through this and survive. I might get to Christmas. I might survive my ‘cancer chatter’ and get to 5000 posts on ‘cancer chat’?