Welcome to the c word
I rarely show the world what is going on inside it is just not my style. I hide pain and constantly worry about worrying other people and how they will feel about how I am feeling. I keep my problems to myself and sometimes even from my closest friends. Well not this time.
I have been on the c word roller-coaster (I'm calling it the c word to go easy on the faint hearted) for over three weeks now and have decided it is a good idea to write down what's happened, happening and going to happen then whoever wants to keep up to date can without being forced to hear about it through emails from me. Because you will all have days where you just can't or don't want to hear about this. I get that it’s ok.
I hope not but you also might meet people or know people who go through something similar and it might just help them in some way to know they are not alone and when they fall apart it is ok because who wouldn’t. When you read this please forgive grammar and spelling etc I have not slept for three days and sorry too if it is up and down that is pretty much how I am doing most days.
- Tuesday 23rd February 2010
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
I want my life back
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.