I am angry. Angry, angry, angry, angry, angry. January. February. March. April. May. June. July. August. September. Angry, angry, angry, angry, angry. You nasty, nasty people. Compassion my arse. Shame it doesn't extend as far as your fellow man.
You made me feel ashamed that I was ill. You made me feel ashamed that I had cancer. You made me feel I wasn't worthy of one single thought, word or dead. You made me feel abandoned. You made me feel bewildered. You made me feel alone. You made me feel idiotic. You made me feel worthless. You made me feel embarrassed. You made me feel sorrow. You made me feel grief. You made me feel like nothing. You make me feel anger.
I resigned due to my ill health. Why did you resign from me?
January. February. March. April. May. June. July. August. September.
I am trying very, very hard to get through this. But they have scarred me. They have taken my trust. They act as though I was nothing; am nothing. They have hurt me beyond my capacity to deal with it. Beyond belief.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Snoring
August was a bad month. I spent part of it in bed crushed with depression; I think a throwback from the cancer months that I repressed until it was all over, and some of it to do with things I've blogged about, a sense of abandonment and a touch of bewilderment at such.
When I did finally crawl out from under my quilt the pains began. They’re in my left side at the front and back, horrendous pain, doubling me over pain, scaring me pain. The top of my abdomen is swollen, I feel a little sick now and then, the underneath of my fingernails all turn bright yellow for periods of time; I’m tired and feel just awful.
I cry at the slightest thing. I never used to be like that.
The doctors have prodded and poked me and blood tests have been carried out to start with, I have to have more done this month. Next month is my 6 monthly check-up for gynaecology, the month after that for my kidney. I have been told it will take a year for my body to settle, to sort itself out and become accustomed to such major changes. I want to believe that these pains are just settling down pains but… well why lie to myself, I know what settling down feelings are like and this isn’t it, this is pain, this is something swelling and pushing pain from the moment I wake until I manage to fall into sleep.
The trouble is when you’ve had cancer you think every little pain or cough is cancer somewhere else. Or do you? Maybe I should have said that’s the trouble with me because I really have no one to talk to who has been through this. Bradley suggested looking for an online support group but I am not going anywhere near an online group of any kind ever again, what has happened there I believe has made my recovery mentally 10 times worse; I will not lay myself open to that again.
I hate the fact that cancer pops into my mind so much; it was physically cut from my body nevertheless I can’t get it out of my mind. My family history is riddled with cancer and yet it never entered my head I would have it. I have had cancer. Sometimes I say that to myself whilst looking in the mirror, when I’m getting dressed, washing my face, brushing my hair; softly, whispering, not wanting anyone else to hear but almost not wanting to hear it myself; a susurrus of awe. I have had cancer.
To just hear the words seems to not be enough; to see myself in the mirror, to watch my lips form the 4 consonants and 2 vowels I feel will make it sink in more. I have had cancer. I still find it hard to comprehend. There I sat in a small, cold, stark hospital room and watched a 3D image of my right kidney rotate before me, 4cm tumour bulbous in all it’s faint, white glory and yet how unconnected to me it all seemed.
With the wonders of modern medicine 2 organs are removed and the cancer is no more, but the thinking organ starts to spin, pondering where the cancers came from, how did they start, will it decided to start up again elsewhere; last time it picked the uterus and the kidney what if now it wants the liver and the lung?
I have 5 more years of this until I am totally all clear. I want to make it there. I want the doubts to stop; I don’t know how to do that.
There was one radiant moment in the month of August. After 13 years I saw my best friend again. To spend the day with her and her husband and dog was wonderful, to hug her was the best thing. The day was far too short, I wanted to do more and say more and… oh just be near her longer, just in the same room as her for a much longer period of time. 30 years, I can’t believe I’ve known someone, other than those in my family, for 30 years.
She has been to me everything a true friend should be, truth be know there have been times I have been too lax in staying in touch and she has always been there, always keeping lines open, always being my friend no matter what. She’s like another sister to me; I love her like a sister. I miss her incredibly; I wish she was just up the road like she used to be when I was a child; just a few doors away when I needed a friend in the room.
When I did finally crawl out from under my quilt the pains began. They’re in my left side at the front and back, horrendous pain, doubling me over pain, scaring me pain. The top of my abdomen is swollen, I feel a little sick now and then, the underneath of my fingernails all turn bright yellow for periods of time; I’m tired and feel just awful.
I cry at the slightest thing. I never used to be like that.
The doctors have prodded and poked me and blood tests have been carried out to start with, I have to have more done this month. Next month is my 6 monthly check-up for gynaecology, the month after that for my kidney. I have been told it will take a year for my body to settle, to sort itself out and become accustomed to such major changes. I want to believe that these pains are just settling down pains but… well why lie to myself, I know what settling down feelings are like and this isn’t it, this is pain, this is something swelling and pushing pain from the moment I wake until I manage to fall into sleep.
The trouble is when you’ve had cancer you think every little pain or cough is cancer somewhere else. Or do you? Maybe I should have said that’s the trouble with me because I really have no one to talk to who has been through this. Bradley suggested looking for an online support group but I am not going anywhere near an online group of any kind ever again, what has happened there I believe has made my recovery mentally 10 times worse; I will not lay myself open to that again.
I hate the fact that cancer pops into my mind so much; it was physically cut from my body nevertheless I can’t get it out of my mind. My family history is riddled with cancer and yet it never entered my head I would have it. I have had cancer. Sometimes I say that to myself whilst looking in the mirror, when I’m getting dressed, washing my face, brushing my hair; softly, whispering, not wanting anyone else to hear but almost not wanting to hear it myself; a susurrus of awe. I have had cancer.
To just hear the words seems to not be enough; to see myself in the mirror, to watch my lips form the 4 consonants and 2 vowels I feel will make it sink in more. I have had cancer. I still find it hard to comprehend. There I sat in a small, cold, stark hospital room and watched a 3D image of my right kidney rotate before me, 4cm tumour bulbous in all it’s faint, white glory and yet how unconnected to me it all seemed.
With the wonders of modern medicine 2 organs are removed and the cancer is no more, but the thinking organ starts to spin, pondering where the cancers came from, how did they start, will it decided to start up again elsewhere; last time it picked the uterus and the kidney what if now it wants the liver and the lung?
I have 5 more years of this until I am totally all clear. I want to make it there. I want the doubts to stop; I don’t know how to do that.
There was one radiant moment in the month of August. After 13 years I saw my best friend again. To spend the day with her and her husband and dog was wonderful, to hug her was the best thing. The day was far too short, I wanted to do more and say more and… oh just be near her longer, just in the same room as her for a much longer period of time. 30 years, I can’t believe I’ve known someone, other than those in my family, for 30 years.
She has been to me everything a true friend should be, truth be know there have been times I have been too lax in staying in touch and she has always been there, always keeping lines open, always being my friend no matter what. She’s like another sister to me; I love her like a sister. I miss her incredibly; I wish she was just up the road like she used to be when I was a child; just a few doors away when I needed a friend in the room.
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