The joys of chemotherapy. I wake up feeling fine. I’m not sick – I’m not hot – I can move freely again. As the day progresses my analytical mind starts to believe I’ve took one big 15 hour hit and now I’m going to be OK. I’ll be fine and dandy as I skip through the next 20 days! Yay!!
Well I skipped through one of those 20 days.
Friday arrived and so did a load more side effects. Great. So tired today and my muscles, bones and skin – they all ache. Throbbing together producing a boom of noise heard in every part of my body. When will I ever learn that I am not able to second guess the power of this chameleon that lives inside of me? I do not know what to do to find any peace within this process. It’s cruel and sometimes does not make any sense to me. I actually think that right now, I am feeling worse than I ever have done in my life. Please someone make this stop.
Listless, flat, hot, cold, sweaty, angry, depressed, sore, scared, frustrated and longing for some control back.
Stuck again in no-man’s land riding out the onslaught of what is happening. My body is fighting a disease and using me as the vehicle of attack. I imagine my tiny cells being killed off – the good ones not able to stop any of this and I feel so so sad. I’m sad because I’ve brought cancer, and my chemo to my family. The guilt bleeds into me daily.
My beautiful family are helpless as they stand by and watch me suffer. Squirming under the crossfire of cancer and chemo. Their Mum is in pain, bald, lying on her bed with desperate eyes looking for the answers they will never have. It’s the most torturous waiting game in the world.
How hard must this be for them? They didn’t want this – they wanted to be free, young, happy and looking forward to the summer – the lift from COVID and the release back into their care-free lives.
Instead they got breast cancer and all that comes with it. It’s nasty. My heart is breaking. But instead of telling them I’m sorrowful and so so guilty at what I have done, I get lost in my own world, withdraw and retract myself away. I don’t want any of them to look into my eyes and see the ghastly truth. I go silent and I go angry. Anger is quickly becoming a familiar friend to me. It touches me often and disintegrates my identity. It usually goes unexpressed which is not great at all. I know it is eating me alive but I don’t want to share it with those who are already holding and watching far too much.
I feel my life is on display to everyone and I hate it. ‘How’s your Mum?’ is a constant question thrown at my kids when they are out or at work. I hate that they have to listen to that and answer it. My Son wants his own identity – away from me – and he isn’t getting it. That makes me mad too. He went to a beach party the other night and a girl he hardly knew started asking him about me and crying on his behalf! Come on – leave him be and let him be 15! I want him to have fun, get out and not shoulder the weight of his ‘ill Mum’. He needs to escape the home where I am – where cancer is – be spontaneous and happy….just get a break from it. All my kids need this. And my husband. I can’t get away from it as much as they can – so this must happen and needs to happen so they can heal and recover too.
And here’s another thing I give head space to but can’t reach a thorough understanding of. Absolutely everyone who has seen me out, walking, running, on a Skype call, wherever, all say the same thing…”I can’t believe how good you look – You’d never know what you were going through”. (Now that is not good looking – that is in reaction to not looking unwell given the cancer).
Why doesn’t this complement, observation or whatever it is sit well with me? What is stopping me feeling so grateful and happy with the words shared kindly?
What is the alternative? They could say “Yes, Heidi, you do look tired – it must be so hard for you…blah de blah”. I know I would absolutely hate that and probably think I am failing as a cancer victim. I would take that personally and it would probably hurt my feelings. Yet, still I can’t work out why I struggle with the supportive opinions of others. I need to take this to therapy. My previous counsellor has agreed to see me again. Thank God. I thought she had retired – well she is doing but not until March 2021 – so we are meeting next Wednesday via Skype. She’s got the whole of my back story. So I can carry on with her, in this next chapter of my life and see what she makes of it with me. I really need to take some of this stuff I have out of my friends and family and into the arms of a therapeutic professional. I will be in safe hands and I need her to facilitate me through.
I’ll let you know how I get on.