Hibernation and evacuation

This week has been tough. In fact, the past two weeks have been tough. Scratch that, the past month has been bloody awful. More and more ladies from my support group have passed on, a friend from home died from cancer, and I’ve still been feeling like I’ve been punched in the stomach from Ceri passing. She was meant to live forever. Last week, our support group were rocked by the news that one of our most active members, Jojo, had gone into a hospice for some respite care due to pain, and had passed away very unexpectedly. I certainly didn’t see this coming, never assumed she would not be getting out, and so here comes the proverbial kick in the stomach again.

 I’ve been having this pit of stomach feeling constantly recently. Due to events at home, events here with my newly diagnosed friend….it all seems a bit like I’m starting out again, in a cruel Groundhog Day joke. The nice positive me has run out of positivity. I’m exhausted, I’m sick of trying to placate people so as to not hurt their feelings, walking on egg shells… ‘Oh I’m sorry you have to look at my cancer face! Not a lot. I can do about that I’m afraid’ I’ve got nothing left in me to give right now. I feel lost and left. I have come to the end of chemo, and I am shitting myself. I have Incurable cancer…no one with Incurable cancer wants to come off treatment that is working, but after 12 cycles and 45 radiation blasts, my body has had enough, and my heart and lungs will be damaged it I continue.  So next step is surgery, and I will be having my PET scan in 3 weeks to check the bugger hasn’t spread anywhere else. Scanxiety. Wonderful. Surgery is expensive and that is another worry I have constantly hanging over me like a big black cloud, reminding me that I have to constantly beg for money, which just makes me feel a big like a loser, and makes the exhaustion almost unbearable. Lost, left and lonely are your words of the week folks. Brought to you by the big C and shit hand I have been dealt in this lifetime. If I come back as a snail, then I know I really fucked things up in my past lives. And if it wasn’t wonderful enough needing surgery, I then have all the upcoming menopausal symptoms that go with no ovaries or hormones, and then will come the inevitable desperate mourning for the children that I was cruelly never allowed to have…but wanted so, so much. 
So, today, after hibernating for a few days, I will be mostly avoiding everyone and everything, because it is just too hard to smile all the time. I’ve had a good cry…now I will be finally getting dressed and going somewhere far, far away to spend the day with my husband, not talking about cancer, not asking about scans and scars and operations and money and hair and blood tests, and going nowhere near any hospitals…until 6pm when I have to go get my bone marrow injection. Then it’s all back down to Earth with a bump. (Tramadol and Lorazepam on stand by).  And I’m not looking for sympathy or head tilts here….just an insight for you non-cancery lot who, quite rightly do not know what an oncologist is, or what her2 is, or what an oophorectomy is, because why should you? But this is my life and this is my out let. And this tumour monster needed a rant and a moan, and for that I certainly DO NOT apologize. Because…well, because everything is just too sad right now.
As Alice herself said: “I can’t go back to yesterday, because I’m not that person anymore.” 

Never a truer word spoken.


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