I am a bit low let's put that out there. You might wonder why, why when so much good news has come my way lately. But sadly unless you have been here you might not quite understand the feeling that my dear friend warned me about when you have had such a trauma hit your life the aftermath is just as draining. So back to my roller-coaster comparison; it is like you have ridden this roller-coaster that was fuelled purely by adrenalin, fear and anxiety and then suddenly it stops, but not at the same place you got on noooo it stops in one of the dips somewhere, the ride has stopped but you still can't get off and no one can hear you. It is at this point when every rush of anxiety and adrenalin subsides into fatigue and you look at the destruction around you and you can't find the strength to face clearing it all up because all you really want is a break, a pause button or preferably rewind to before this all happened.
The more you learn the less you know. I think I finally get that concept now, I have only gone moments really of my lifetime with limited use of my arm and I totally hate it. Imprisoned in long sleeves I am desperately wanting to wear summer dresses, go swimming, drive, lift things, play tennis with the boys, pick them up and swing them round the garden, cuddle the cat, cuddle phil, cuddle strangers, well not so much. Most of all not have to fear and think about this damn infection. But there are other people wheelchair bound or paralysed who never have or never will again have use of their limbs and I am not one of them so how lame am I to complain about my lot. My heart really sinks when I think about what quality of life some people have had dealt to them and yet many of them refuse the disability life handed them and live a full active life. Gotta try to take a leaf from their books, it is hard to when your still in cancer stasis.
I also think I have an idea of how the loss of status and meaning can pull you under and lead to loss of motivation and that if you find yourself unemployed or unemployable life can be a prison. I know that I only need to keep my head above water until October but that means keeping busy with no purpose whilst recovering then attending radiotherapy treatment and post treatment appointments with rent and bills that still need paying for five and half months and then who knows. If I would be able to convince someone to employ me right now, not bloody likely, I absolutely dread the idea of working in a soul destroying job I hate, I just can't face it.
It is not that I am depressed in a I hate myself and feel like some self destruction sort of way no I still like me, very much, and that is the infuriating part. I want to retain or get back to being me and living my life not the one that has temporarily been imposed on me. I am just worn out, spent.
Anyway can we just take a moment to try to understand why we are reliving the eighties? Again. Well again again because I swear we relived it before I went to America. I was thinking the other day that when the kids grow up they will relive the noughties and within that they will have to relive most decades in the twentieth century. I have no idea what they will be wearing I can't wait to see what outfits Reuben will chose. We sent him upstairs once to get into some summer clothes and he came down wearing a smart ironed Marks and Spencer shirt all buttoned up to the collar and some stained skanky football shorts, the kid has got his fathers fashion sense.
I had tons I wanted to tell you about today and yesterday but I am sleepy now so I am going to sign off.
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