There are days when life with cancer feels like way too much to handle, when the tears come easily and the weight on my chest feels almost unbearable. I grasp any kind of diversion, any way I can avoid letting the defeat wash over me. I busy myself with tiny tasks but make them time-consuming and pretend they’re vitally important. Does this help? No. But it’s a distraction, and distractions are good because they distract. And that’s how all the bathrooms got cleaned so thoroughly last week.
When I do let the feeling wash over me, it is as overwhelming as you might imagine. Letting my mind go to “that dark place” is so dangerous, and yet I think it’s far better to face it (occasionally) than to completely avoid it. What will happen if the chemo doesn’t work? You can guess the many questions that follow that one. None of them come with answers that make me happy.
There’s no denying that cancer sucks, and in so many ways. One of the things I hate about having cancer—or maybe not so much the cancer as the side effects of my medications—is that I have become so emotional. It’s not just the crying-over-anything-all-the-time thing; it’s a pain-deep-in-my-soul sensitivity. Itty-bitty things hurt me in ways they never would have before.
Like yesterday? When the dog wouldn’t come to me when I called? I thought I’d collapse in despair. THAT’S the level of un-reason I’m dealing with, people. It makes no sense, but it’s my reality.
I sometimes feel like I’ve lost the ability to see things from someone else’s point of view. That’s what I hate about self-centered people I’ve known, when they don’t seem to have any idea how unreasonable their expectations of others can be… and here I am, leaning toward that same self-centeredness. Some people say I have a good excuse for that right now, that cancer is so life-altering that it’s unfair for others to expect me to be the same person I’ve always been. And I’m OK with letting this experience change me, but I don’t LOVE the idea of it changing me into a big whiny weenie.
Pretty please be patient with me.
It sucks, doesn't it.... We'll get past it. In the meantime, I love you just the way you are, Sweetie....
ReplyDeleteHonestly, I don't think we'd expect any less. You are typically such a rock star about all this that I am just in utter awe of you - but I don't think anyone would expect that it never sucks, that there aren't bad sides to this - and that you don't always handle this with a smile on your face and a halo hovering over your head.
ReplyDeleteYou know you are always, always in my thoughts - happy face or no. But OJ? He deserves no happy faces.
Hang in there, Jen. This isn't easy and you really have been such a rock star. You are NOT a whiny weenie, though that is fun to say--say it three times fast.
ReplyDeleteTake care of you. Thoughts and prayers comin' at you. xoxo
Jen, I keep reading your posts hoping that something really inspired will fly from my fingers to make you feel better--but so far, nothing like that has happened. I just find myself unable to even THINK of commenting back to you. I am at a complete loss to be anything close to a wonderfully supportive friend. I simply don't know what to say! In the past, I thought I could offer you some help in your darkest hour, but in reality, I just go there with you, only with a big, dumb, blank look on my face. I feel very inadequate, and for that I am sorry. I love you dearly, and always have. You were so special to me in high school--you will never have any idea. I can't stand the thought of not being able to help you. Even as I write this I am struggling to see the screen through tears. I want so badly to help you, Jen. Thanks for the help you are giving all of us.
ReplyDeleteJen, I keep reading your posts hoping that something really inspired will fly from my fingers to make you feel better--but so far, nothing like that has happened. I just find myself unable to even THINK of commenting back to you. I am at a complete loss to be anything close to a wonderfully supportive friend. I simply don't know what to say! In the past, I thought I could offer you some help in your darkest hour, but in reality, I just go there with you, only with a big, dumb, blank look on my face. I feel very inadequate, and for that I am sorry. I love you dearly, and always have. You were so special to me in high school--you will never have any idea. I can't stand the thought of not being able to help you. Even as I write this I am struggling to see the screen through tears. I want so badly to help you, Jen. Thanks for the help you are giving all of us.
ReplyDelete