I suppose I am writing this for my own sanity more than
anything. This is my account of the insanity that is life right now. My account
of the beast called Cancer and how it has over taken over my life. Cancer doesn’t
only happen to the person diagnosed, but to all who are part of that persons
life. Over the last several months, I have come to realize how cathartic
writing really is for me. Why did it have to take so many years and a tragedy
to figure that out?
I say tragedy, but is that really what it is? I really don’t
know. We go along each day, living our lives and become complacent with
basically everything. We all get swallowed up in our own existence, the day to
day routines of our lives and the things that matter most to us, get pushed
back; put on a shelf to be dealt with at some other time; chores, friends and
families. We all cope with the day to day, then tragedy strikes. There’s that
word again.
It was a Thursday night, rather late; a school night. As I
was getting the girls ready for bed, the phone rang. Caller ID said it was my
mom. Now I love my mom VERY much and we are very close, but it had been a very
long day and the last thing I wanted was another long drawn out conversation
with my mom about how I needed to
get certain parts of my life in order (that’s a whole other story in itself). I
rolled my eyes and sighed a huge sigh and tried to avoid her even more. I told
my daughter to answer the phone, so I could prepare myself for the conversation
that loomed. The look on my child’s face, I’ll never forget. Joy of talking to
her Grandmother, turned to fret and fear. She held out the phone and said,
“She’s crying.”
Ok, so now fear and guilt enveloped me. I quickly took the
phone. My mom was in pain, an attack of some sort, she wasn’t sure what it was.
She was calling me to find out what a Gall Bladder attack felt like. I had mine
removed after the birth of my oldest daughter. To make this recollection not
too long, I told her it didn’t sound like that to me, but she needed to go to
the Emergency Room. I stayed on the phone with her as I tracked my dad down on
my cell phone. He had been bowling. After determining that he didn’t have time
to finish the tenth frame (he’ll never live that down) he left to go to her. I
hung up the phone and stayed on with my mom until he got home. It was only 10
minutes, but it was a very long 10 minutes. When you hear someone you love,
someone who has always been so strong, sound so weak and in so much pain… well,
it may only be 10 minutes, but it
was the longest most excruciating 10 minutes of my life.
I hung up the phone and breathed out deeply. Turning to my
own selfishness again, glad that I could tuck that away. My dad was there, he
could take care of her now. They would call later and let me know what was
happening and I could sit back and wallow in my own existence again. I worried
yes. It’s my mom, but I was now able to focus on me, my life, my trials and
tribulations; my day to day boring routine. I put he kids to bed and crawled
into bed myself and turned on the TV taking my phone with me for when they
called. I drifted off to sleep, worried, but content with the fact that my job
was done. I was a good girl and did what I had to; my obligation was fulfilled.
The phone didn’t ring that night. They had decided to send
an e-mail that I read first thing in the morning. They told me that the E.R.
said it wasn’t a Gall Bladder attack and did a whole string of tests and blood
work and told her to go and see a Gastroentologist on Monday. I breathed a sign
of relief at that point, thinking that she was going to be just fine. There was
no fear of what was to come. Life was now ok again and that daily routine of
self-importance took hold again. My mom went to her appointment and was set up
for a colonoscopy for that Thursday. Still, there was no fear of what this test
may hold in store for her and all of us. She was told to come back in on
Tuesday and they would discuss the results of the test with her.
Now I hope I’m not portraying myself as uncaring or without
emotion about this whole ordeal. It was all upsetting and yes, we were all a
little nervous about what was happening, but what we found out, makes
everything else seem so subdued and trivial. February 28, 2012 was the worst day of my life. It’s the day
that my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I remember listening to her tell me;
not really comprehending the enormity of it all.
Now before I go any further, I think I need to tell you a
bit about who I am; my personality. I would say that I am mostly a Type A
personality, with lots of Type B tendencies. I’d say that I can be very
creative and I really enjoy exploring new ideas; very type B. However, I have a
severe sense of urgency when faced with a project or a problem and work
diligently until that project or problem is solved. I do anything and
everything that I can to solve any issue until it is no longer an issue. That
being said, I’m sure you can imagine how I felt when faced with a problem that
I had no control over what so ever.
My mind reeled with the news my mom had given me. A million
and a half thoughts ran through my head in only a few very short seconds. My
head was spinning. I tried to stay strong for her, make like the news was ok to
hear. I stayed positive for her while I was on the phone. As I hung up the
phone, my entire world came crashing in on me. I felt like Hercules, holding
trying to hold up the entire world on his shoulders. The weight of it was
suffocating me. I was faced with a problem that I could not solve, no matter
what, it was not in my hands to fix it; make it all ok. I wanted to run from
the house screaming. I wanted to run as far as I could and then run some more.
I wanted to scream at the world as loudly as I could; yell into the blackness
of the night until it reached the ears of God. How dare life be so cruel. A
hatred brewed in me. How could he do this? How could God make such a thing? How
could he allow this disease consume my mother?
In that moment, I felt more alone than Tom Hanks was in Cast
Away. My husband, gone. My parents in pain. Friends, distant and removed. Being
a military wife sucks in that you are constantly leaving friends. So being the
Type A personality that I am, I solved that problem, many years ago. I stopped
putting myself out there, giving a piece of my heart to friends for it to only
be torn away when we once again had to leave. I built a wall around myself and
to let anyone in was a major feat on their part. I had secluded myself from
opening up and bonding with anyone on that intimate a level. I felt as if I was
falling into the abyss; a black hole of nothingness. Panic ensued. I didn’t
want to fall in, yet I had no where to turn, at least so I thought. I didn’t
know who to talk too. I didn’t want some sugar coated reply from my old distant
friends. Nor could I burden my brothers or family with my thoughts when they
too were dealing with the news they had just received. I had been standing in
the middle of the room, mouth open, unsure of reality. I sank the my knees and
sobbed in agony. How was I going to handle this? Who could I ask for help? Then
a poem that I had read a few weeks before popped into my head. This person,
this stranger, had faced the vicious monster, had lost someone dear, and still
made it through to the other side. Was there actually hope left out there? I
was desperate to have answers to all my questions and I had no clue where else
to turn, but to this stranger.
I stood up, and in a futile motion wiped away the tears that
would not stop oozing from my eyes. I pulled up my e-mail and started typing,
pleading for an answer. I wrote to this stranger then sat for a few moments
contemplating whether or not to hit send. “What the fuck!” Ran through my head.
“The worst that can happen is there is no response.” I hit send, turned off the
computer, resigning myself to the fact that I wouldn’t hear anything back, but
I was ok with that. Honestly. It had felt good to release some of the emotions
that were drowning my brain. I walked around over the next day or so in a fog.
Still in agony, but coping with the monster that had the audacity to rear it’s
ugliness in my life. I still had to talk to someone, so I took a leap of faith
and turned to two people on twitter of all places. They helped so much. More
than I can express in words. I felt a true friendship brewing and it was okay
that they were hundreds or thousands of miles away, we still connected and my
pain started to dissipate. I was still fearful and unsure of how to handle what
I was feeling, how to cope with my feelings and still be supportive to those
around me.
Then came a tweet. From that stranger. There were a few kind
words, a tweet back and forth and a phrase that was so matter-o-factly that it
brought my mind that had been going hundreds of miles an hour to a dead stop. "You have to deal with
it, so you will." It made perfect sense. I was in awe of the simplicity of
it. I had sent that message out into the world, not expecting a reply. You see,
my faith in humanity was also faltering at that point in my life, from something
that I will not go into at this time. So to get a response from this stranger,
this person who is so busy with so many different things, that took a wee bit
of time to respond to another human being, meant more to me than anyone will
ever be able to comprehend. It restored my faith in humanity a bit as well as
inspired me. I was suddenly filled with the urge to write a poem. I had never
written a poem before. I just sat and started writing. My feelings came flowing
out of me and by the time I was done, I felt so much better. It was a thank you
more or less, to those that opened up and held me in their hands and hearts for
a short while, until I could stand on my own. If you’d like to read it, here ya
go. http://releaseofemotions.blogspot.com/2012/03/comfort-in-strange-places.html
I
felt hope crawling up out of the darkness and the weight that had been sitting
on my chest the last few days was slowly lifting as time started to soften the
blow that had struck only a few nights before. A follow up e-mail from this
stranger solidified that there are still good people out there in the universe,
they aren’t all asses. Life was still revolving around me and time passed
slowly, but I was still riddled with sadness and bouts of hopelessness. This is
the second worse time of my life right now, the first being a miscarriage I had
when 4 months pregnant. The loss of a child, even one that hasn’t been born is
the only thing that I can even begin to equate to the loss of a parent.
Over
the last few months, I have come to have a distrust of Doctors yet my faith in
humanity and compassion has been returning, slowly, but each day it grows. I
have found a support system in my twitter friends, that has held me together by
sharing their own trials and losses. I am taking each day given, one day at a
time. I’ll wrap up this particular post for now and will continue this story of
caring, coping and hope shortly. My hope with this blog, is to hopefully let
someone out there, that may be going through the same madness as I have, as I
am, that they aren’t alone. No one is an island and it really does help, (sometimes, not all the time) to talk things out.
