No surprise here folks - another hiatus from blog writing again for me. Not a word written or even a half hearted blog attempt since my cancerversary - the creative juices have dried up into a veritable desert. I am still stuck in this mental funk where I am unable to concentrate and am almost always numbing myself with some form of technology. I had to bring out the big guns and dig deep into the Spotify musical chest for some inspiration today and it came in the form of Ms Sarah Mclachlan. Oh the memories that her songs bring up for me...really really good heart warming ones. I am one of those very lucky people who can think back so fondly to my teenage years. I loved that time and had so much fun. So many special people that were present during that time are either geographical separated from me, have fallen out of touch and some are actually gone forever. But the memories aren't and these songs immediately take me back to Lillith Fair in Montreal, road trips to various friends cottages in the Laurentians or the end of summer week at Camp Nominingue. Music has always been a powerful tool to remember for me.
Well this little soldier is gearing up for battle next week when I will face off with the PET scanning machine again. How did that time go by so fast? I remember when my doctor and I decided to wait a little longer between scans to give me a break and it had seemed such a long time away back then. But now I am quite literally one week away from doing it all over again and really starting to worry. Subconsciously I react to an upcoming scan weeks beforehand without always realizing it. It starts with googling which I try not to do ever. I quickly type into the search engine "Life expectancy for TNBC Stage 3b regional relapse." The specificity of this sentence and the tiny group it includes always makes it difficult for me to get any real info back. And isn't the whole point of my doing this is to get some kind of concrete answer, some kind of fact that will provide me some comfort and relief. I always want the answer before the question has even been asked and this situation is no different. I know what is coming - the anxiety, the fear and the wait. If there is any way I can alleviate some of it through some "googling" i do even though I know i wont find the answer I am looking for. But when did googling ever really help anyone unless you are looking for pictures of cupcakes or spiders to show your curious five year old! But you know what sometimes when I start digging into the journal abstracts and tables of survival stats, I feel lucky. Lucky that I beat some pretty incredible odds but I can't forget that I am a long way from being able to stop worrying. I often wish I had a crystal ball to tell me what was coming but then again would it really help if you can't do anything about any of it? #deepthoughtsforafriday
I have been thinking a lot about this lately in terms of the whole BRCA issue and of course Angelina coming front and center regarding her decision to remove her ovaries, helped jog my memory of my killer lady genes. I wrote about the day she made mastectomies hip nearly two years ago and she goes and does it again, only this time with ovaries and menopause. Only Angelina could do that. To me there is nothing more unsexy then having to do all this crap. But it has got me thinking more about my daughter and what fate lies ahead of her. At the same time, it has also made me think about what my life would have been like had known that was I carrying this deadly gene. There is no denying that it would have had a huge effect on me, my decisions, the way I looked at myself and my body. Would I still be the same person I am today if I had known? I can't answer that but part of me feels that it would have influenced me in some way especially the decisions I made. Worrying about getting cancer because you actually know you will most certainly get it and feeling pressure to find a partner and have kids before it is all too late is intense for anyone let alone a young adult. It doesn't sound too great to me. No one likes having the power to decide taken away from them. So I worry for her and the struggles that lie ahead for her because of this. That day where I will have to open pandora's box and share my secret with her will come sooner then I like. And I don't think you will find "talking to your daughter about the brca gene" in many parenting books but it will be in mine. As a parent, you want your child to have the easiest and happiest way in life and knowing what is ahead (when most have no idea), places such a heavy burden and black cloud over things. She is only five now yet she can tell something is up and her inquisitive mind is asking questions about almost everything and anything these days. There will come a day soon when she will know what the word cancer means and that her mother had it...twice. She is already consumed by death lately and asks me questions daily about it and how it all works. How do you die? What happened to you pappa? Do people who die still need to eat food? How do we know where they go? Does it hurt? Tell me how every member of your family died? And on and on. We are very careful not to associate sickness with death because she is sharp and would very quickly connect the dots. Even last week when we briefly spoke about the time I was sick, she asked bluntly "Were you going to die?" To which I replied of course not. She then told me that she had been very scared during that time and didn't want to discuss it anymore because it made her sad to think about it. I had to hug her extra long that night. I have such a responsibility to control what information she gets and how she understands it in order to manage her fears. I don't want her growing up thinking that cancer equates death. What heavy things to have to think about now. I am in a way relieved my mother and I didn't have to tread through this tough road but of course I would have done anything to have had the chance to act before it all happened.
I think that there is no right way to do this and I have to trust that i will know what to do when the time comes just as I have through the rest of my challenges. And I will love her through it because that is the best thing I can do for her.
So for now I must focus on the right here, right now. Focus on what is coming up next week and believe it will all be okay for me. I made a promise to my little monkey that everything would be okay from now on. I believe that there is nothing there and that I will earn a third gold star on my post cancer check up list. That I will move closer and closer to a life without fear.
Seems fitting to end this blog with a thoughtful quote:
"It takes just one song to bring back a 1,000 memories."
Thanks to all of you for staring in mine.
OBB
Friday, April 10, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Four Years On...
Four Years On...
"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace." Chuck Palahniuk
Again my blog has escaped me and I am months past the last entry. I really did like my last entry and I have realized time again that the more chaotic my life and mind are, the less likely I am to find the inner peace to form a single thought strong enough to translate into an entry. This was never a blog of my sub conscious babbling. I have tried so hard to make every entry matter and be something I could be proud of but for some reason those moments of clarity and inspiration are less and less.
Since I last wrote, I went to Canada with my daughter to see my family which was both therapeutic and lovely. There is something so effortless and comfortable about being with your clan - just like the soothing feeling of your favorite pair of sweats. And it fills my heart with such joy to see my daughter so in love with her cousins. She thrives so much around them and it brings out the extrovert in her. It makes it that much harder to deal with the distance and the fact that we only see each other once if not twice a year if lucky. My side of the family is very small and we need to stick together.
I also started working a reduced workload which has as predicted been very hard to do. I struggle so much with just letting go and saying no. I want to deliver and I want people to feel they can rely on me. Being on sick leave doesn't exactly instill that vote of confidence that I am after. But I am really trying this time and not losing out on the opportunity that I have been given. Rest, relax and reboot are my aims of the day. I am also embarking on a happiness project because I have realized that I am not exactly where I want to be. The last four years have taken a clear toll on me and I know myself well enough to know when I am not being the person I want to be. I so desperately want to be that person who squeezes everything out of life and appreciates the good stuff. I continue to live in this perpetual state in which I numb the world out through white noise. I am here of course and I smile, laugh and say the right things but inside I feel so bloody tired of making light of it all. So I will see how it goes and if anyone is curious, I am reading "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. It is definitely worth a read if you want to clear out your physical and mental clutter.
And to finish off - it has been a big week for me but I forgot to properly acknowledge it so I am doing it now. Firstly it was my 4 year cancerversary which is both a painful reminder of all the struggles and suffering I have endured but also a huge celebration that I am still here and cancer free. Not everyone is so lucky and considering the extra bonus round I had, I am especially grateful to be here. It is so weird when this day comes around - it makes me sit back and revisit all those events that took me to today. The roller coaster of emotions that range from shock, fear, bravery, anger and finally relief. My cancer story is a patchwork quilt made up of so many colors, textures and experiences that will stay with me forever. In addition, we also had the International Triple Negative Breast Cancer Awareness Day which is of course of importance to me and my family. TNBC is one nasty ass bitch that tends to target young women and be much more ruthless in its wrath. We currently have no targeted treatment for TNBC unlike the other more common kinds of the disease so research remains essential to getting to a point where there is a specialist kind of black ops treatment available that will kick TNBC into another stratosphere. But for now I will remain hopeful and optimistic that the kind of experimental treatment they used on my relapse (and that so far has worked!) will become the norm and TNBC will no longer have the sinister reputation it does today. I thought it was fitting to roll back the clock and repost my first ever cancerversary entry on this blog. I think it so fittingly captures the raw emotion, denial and shock that comes with a cancer diagnosis especially one that came with absolutely no warning. It is strange re-reading my own words and how much more optimistic and less weathered by trauma I was back then. That girl who wrote those words could teach the me of today a thing or two. So let's hop in the time machine...
Four years ago in a hospital exam room in Oslo,Norway:
Me: So I just wanted to come in to make sure everything was healing ok – you know me worry worry worry about everything.
Nurse: I see you are alone today. You usually always come with your husband but he isn’t with you today.
Me: No – I didn’t want to bother him with a routine appointment.
Nurse: Hmmm…
Doctor: Well everything looks to be healing fine but I think you should sit down. (She stares blankly at me, looks at her computer screen and takes a breath). I have some bad news.
Me: What do you mean?
Doctor: We have found malignant cells in your biopsy. You have breast cancer.
Me: What does that mean?
Doctor: You have cancer.
The shock took over and I was trembling with fear. I handed my phone to the nurse and told her to call my husband and tell him to come now. There was no way I could get the words out to him myself. There was no way I could tell him what had just happened. The next minutes that ticked by felt surreal and like I wasn't really there, as they told me what I would need to be ready for and that so many women survive breast cancer these days.
Me: I am sorry but I am not listening to a word you are saying. I am somewhere else.
Doctor: Ok. I am sure this all very upsetting for you.
Truth be told I was using every ounce of energy to hold the pieces of myself together and not fall apart…not yet. A million questions zoomed around my brain – none of them good. It was just so hard to believe it was happening to me. The moment my husband arrived in the room, I felt more secure. I wasn’t alone. He was so strong, my anchor and just sat down beside me, held my hand and asked the right questions. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t cry – he kept it together for me which gave me so much strength. That is the type of person you want beside you when your world crumbles – a sturdy stable refuge when everything else is spinning out of control around you.
When we walked out into the corridor, the tsunami that had been growing in strength and momentum finally crashed. I ran into the washroom and dialed my mother’s number. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night, I needed her. She was the first person I told those three words to (amidst uncontrollable sobs of the deepest pain I have ever felt) – I have cancer.
Those three words changed my life. They changed how I looked, how I felt and how I see. Of course it was predominantly a nightmare but I have gained such deep insight into myself and life. An insight that would have taken a lifetime to learn. So it is not all bad.
So one year on, I am happy to be able to call myself a survivor. I am here, I am breathing, I am living. And in the words of my husband in those dark early days, “ We will beat this, no matter what.” And we did.
Love, OBB
"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace." Chuck Palahniuk
Again my blog has escaped me and I am months past the last entry. I really did like my last entry and I have realized time again that the more chaotic my life and mind are, the less likely I am to find the inner peace to form a single thought strong enough to translate into an entry. This was never a blog of my sub conscious babbling. I have tried so hard to make every entry matter and be something I could be proud of but for some reason those moments of clarity and inspiration are less and less.
Since I last wrote, I went to Canada with my daughter to see my family which was both therapeutic and lovely. There is something so effortless and comfortable about being with your clan - just like the soothing feeling of your favorite pair of sweats. And it fills my heart with such joy to see my daughter so in love with her cousins. She thrives so much around them and it brings out the extrovert in her. It makes it that much harder to deal with the distance and the fact that we only see each other once if not twice a year if lucky. My side of the family is very small and we need to stick together.
I also started working a reduced workload which has as predicted been very hard to do. I struggle so much with just letting go and saying no. I want to deliver and I want people to feel they can rely on me. Being on sick leave doesn't exactly instill that vote of confidence that I am after. But I am really trying this time and not losing out on the opportunity that I have been given. Rest, relax and reboot are my aims of the day. I am also embarking on a happiness project because I have realized that I am not exactly where I want to be. The last four years have taken a clear toll on me and I know myself well enough to know when I am not being the person I want to be. I so desperately want to be that person who squeezes everything out of life and appreciates the good stuff. I continue to live in this perpetual state in which I numb the world out through white noise. I am here of course and I smile, laugh and say the right things but inside I feel so bloody tired of making light of it all. So I will see how it goes and if anyone is curious, I am reading "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. It is definitely worth a read if you want to clear out your physical and mental clutter.
And to finish off - it has been a big week for me but I forgot to properly acknowledge it so I am doing it now. Firstly it was my 4 year cancerversary which is both a painful reminder of all the struggles and suffering I have endured but also a huge celebration that I am still here and cancer free. Not everyone is so lucky and considering the extra bonus round I had, I am especially grateful to be here. It is so weird when this day comes around - it makes me sit back and revisit all those events that took me to today. The roller coaster of emotions that range from shock, fear, bravery, anger and finally relief. My cancer story is a patchwork quilt made up of so many colors, textures and experiences that will stay with me forever. In addition, we also had the International Triple Negative Breast Cancer Awareness Day which is of course of importance to me and my family. TNBC is one nasty ass bitch that tends to target young women and be much more ruthless in its wrath. We currently have no targeted treatment for TNBC unlike the other more common kinds of the disease so research remains essential to getting to a point where there is a specialist kind of black ops treatment available that will kick TNBC into another stratosphere. But for now I will remain hopeful and optimistic that the kind of experimental treatment they used on my relapse (and that so far has worked!) will become the norm and TNBC will no longer have the sinister reputation it does today. I thought it was fitting to roll back the clock and repost my first ever cancerversary entry on this blog. I think it so fittingly captures the raw emotion, denial and shock that comes with a cancer diagnosis especially one that came with absolutely no warning. It is strange re-reading my own words and how much more optimistic and less weathered by trauma I was back then. That girl who wrote those words could teach the me of today a thing or two. So let's hop in the time machine...
Four years ago in a hospital exam room in Oslo,Norway:
Me: So I just wanted to come in to make sure everything was healing ok – you know me worry worry worry about everything.
Nurse: I see you are alone today. You usually always come with your husband but he isn’t with you today.
Me: No – I didn’t want to bother him with a routine appointment.
Nurse: Hmmm…
Doctor: Well everything looks to be healing fine but I think you should sit down. (She stares blankly at me, looks at her computer screen and takes a breath). I have some bad news.
Me: What do you mean?
Doctor: We have found malignant cells in your biopsy. You have breast cancer.
Me: What does that mean?
Doctor: You have cancer.
The shock took over and I was trembling with fear. I handed my phone to the nurse and told her to call my husband and tell him to come now. There was no way I could get the words out to him myself. There was no way I could tell him what had just happened. The next minutes that ticked by felt surreal and like I wasn't really there, as they told me what I would need to be ready for and that so many women survive breast cancer these days.
Me: I am sorry but I am not listening to a word you are saying. I am somewhere else.
Doctor: Ok. I am sure this all very upsetting for you.
Truth be told I was using every ounce of energy to hold the pieces of myself together and not fall apart…not yet. A million questions zoomed around my brain – none of them good. It was just so hard to believe it was happening to me. The moment my husband arrived in the room, I felt more secure. I wasn’t alone. He was so strong, my anchor and just sat down beside me, held my hand and asked the right questions. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t cry – he kept it together for me which gave me so much strength. That is the type of person you want beside you when your world crumbles – a sturdy stable refuge when everything else is spinning out of control around you.
When we walked out into the corridor, the tsunami that had been growing in strength and momentum finally crashed. I ran into the washroom and dialed my mother’s number. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night, I needed her. She was the first person I told those three words to (amidst uncontrollable sobs of the deepest pain I have ever felt) – I have cancer.
Those three words changed my life. They changed how I looked, how I felt and how I see. Of course it was predominantly a nightmare but I have gained such deep insight into myself and life. An insight that would have taken a lifetime to learn. So it is not all bad.
So one year on, I am happy to be able to call myself a survivor. I am here, I am breathing, I am living. And in the words of my husband in those dark early days, “ We will beat this, no matter what.” And we did.
Love, OBB
Sunday, January 25, 2015
When to say when
When I was a kid, every time I came down or in (swim practice) for breakfast, my father had everything laid out and neatly organised. Orange juice, various vitamins, oatmeal and a cup of tea. He took good care of us and it was so nice to be so well looked after each and every day. I can still imagine all those different coloured pills sitting in rows by my glass. Oh the comfort gained from routine. When I would take ownership of my bowl, he would come over with the milk and start pouring - “Say when Katie” he would say. I would wait and wager the best guess as to when the most optimal amount of milk was in the bowl. Sometimes I would call it too soon or other times, I would end up with a whole lot of oats swimming in a overflown bowl of milk. At that time, the consequences of not knowing the limits were minimal. But what about when you don’t know when to say when about serious stuff? What are the consequences then?
Just to interlude briefly here amongst all the big out there thoughts - I know I have been gone a long time from this blog. I am sorry for that. It has been a mixture of getting swallowed up by daily life, struggling with a lack of energy and creativity and just kind of drifting along my life without really being an active participant in it. When I am overwhelmed, I never have the mental clarity to write. There is never a free moment to come up with an idea. Instead I numb my brain and thoughts with constant distractions. I noticed it even before my husband brought it up a few weeks ago. He mentioned that I seemed to constantly be watching or reading something on a screen all the time - when washing dishes, brushing my teeth, cutting vegetables. Like I was afraid of what would happen if I was just left alone with my thoughts. It scared me to be honest - this new tendency to envelope myself in this white noise. A kind of suspended state of living.
Alot has happened since I last wrote. Unfortunately I can’t share everything on here but I can just say that I have taken a knock lately and it has hurt. It has made me angry and bitter. Like I am paying off this infinite debt to some gruesome monster lurking under the stairs that never seems to leave. It just keeps taking pieces of me, one by one, and giving me nothing back in return -no guarantees, nothing but uncertainty. It is incredibly difficult to not want to lash out at the people closest to you and feel as if no one in this huge expansive world gets it. There is really nothing worse than feeling alone when there are good people all around you. Like my doctor said recently - I really don’t know what to say. This is uncharted territory.” Yes you can say that again. I feel like I am in this purgatory state that doesn’t seem to have many members. I don’t fit on either side and it incredibly isolating.
So back to this whole milk metaphor. Knowing your limits is a skill that not many have. I know I don’t and this is precisely what has gotten me into this kind of hole. You have all read over the last 12 months about my struggles to adjust to normal life and how I have pushed myself way too hard in an effort to make up for all this lost time. I can tell myself so easily that no one can sprint a marathon yet I ridiculously set out to do just that. And now I have reached mile 28 and everything has come crashing down. For months and months, my palliative doctor has told me i need to find some time to rest and take a break. I think this conversation started somewhere last spring and I only managed to find some time at Christmas time. I kept telling her that I just had a few more important things to get done and that it was impossible to take a break now. When I reflect back on this, I am shocked that I went against medical advice.When did I become that person? But I thought i knew best and I was so damn terrified of what would happen if I admitted I couldn’t maintain this pace anymore.Being found out felt far worse than hitting a wall. I think this is a great example of the unique set of challenges that a young person accompanies when facing serious illness. You are always racing to catch up but playing by a completely different set of rules and limitations. There is so much pressure to build a life, a career, a family during yours 30s and I have been benched! I explained this to one person recently like this - my mind, my dreams, my aspirations haven’t changed after these past four years. I am still the same person who wants to be successful and happy but my body sadly is not. This contradictory state presents such a challenge to me because my mind believes i can still do it all but my body continues to fail me. It makes me so incredibly frustrated and upset because I just want nothing more than to do what I want to do. But I can’t and I only recently realised and openly admitted it. Like an alcoholic who comes to the breaking point of admission - I had to admit to my employer that I have been hiding all my sufferings and struggles and that I am steps away from a collapse. Do you know how hard that was for me? And it wasn’t even me who opened up this dialogue. I was faced with it and had to admit defeat.That I cannot do this but for some reason along this fucked up cancer road, I lost the way and stopped knowing when to say WHEN. And now everything seems out of my control and I must now take that dreaded step back. I will be reducing my workload for the next few months because I have to and because deep down, I know it is the right thing to do. I hate having to give in to my body’s limitations and that I can’t carry on this marathon but there is no other way now. After surviving through two rounds of cancer, I guess I should want more for myself. Instead of waking every morning feeling completely awful, putting on a happy face even though I hurt, pushing through a very intense working day, giving the last few drops of energy to my daughter and then leaving my husband with the worst bits. It isn’t a great life really. I haven’t had the energy to do the happy things that enrich my life - yoga, writing, laughing, being with people I love and just being real. I really don’t laugh enough anymore. I should be trying to live my life to the absolute fullest but for some reason I went the other way. I tried to ignore my limitations. I tried to pretend everything was fine. I tried to push through the exhaustion barrier every day. And in the end, it was me who lost the most.
So as this new year rolls on, it is kind of like a new awakening for me too. I am accepting my situation right now and the body I am working with. I can’t do everything that I want to do but it doesnt mean that I wont make it to the finish line. It just might involev a few more water breaks and a slower steady pace. Being honest with yourself is never easy, so reluctantly I say - when.
The Phoenix (OBB)
Friday, November 14, 2014
Ain't No Freaky Going On
I will be brief because I am in a rush but I needed to tell you all the good news!
I have no tumours residing in my brain at present!!! Woohooo!!!!
I will be seeing my doctor to go through everything and only got this news from him via text but the preliminary word is that I am still cancer free. Oh sweet baby jesus relief!
Of course I am over the moon with this news but it brings up many other questions that require time and thought. But I wont worry myself over them now.
I am going to celebrate this win!
Happy weekend to everyone everywhere!
Love OBB
I have no tumours residing in my brain at present!!! Woohooo!!!!
I will be seeing my doctor to go through everything and only got this news from him via text but the preliminary word is that I am still cancer free. Oh sweet baby jesus relief!
Of course I am over the moon with this news but it brings up many other questions that require time and thought. But I wont worry myself over them now.
I am going to celebrate this win!
Happy weekend to everyone everywhere!
Love OBB
Monday, November 3, 2014
Brains, trains and automobiles
So the
month of October went by without me being able to rattle out an entry focused
on Pinktober. I am really slipping these days as it is the first time in 3
years that I missed out on making a statement about this important month. I did
write a short entry on my facebook page and published some never before seen
pictures of my head shaving experience.
I think the one of my daughter being hold by her newly shaved mother was
powerful. She was just a baby than and had no idea of the struggles her mother
was living through. She was just happy to be in her mother’s arms – wrapped up
in her love. Things are so different now – I can’t hide anything from her
anymore.
So the
month of October has been especially hard for me. I have not been feeling well
at all and it has made much of my daily life a challenge. Let’s just say things
are slipping through the cracks all the time. I have continued to work through
all of this and not really missed a day of work despite feeling like I was on
the verge of collapse because I didn’t feel I had a choice. At first I didn’t think
much of it and just thought all of the symptoms I felt were unrelated and most
likely the cause of my insane workload and schedule for a person in recovery.
People who have lived through two back to back cancer rounds aren’t usually working
full time in an incredibly stressful and demanding job. Or at least they aren’t
in Norway! But I feel like there is no choice. I feel so bloody trapped between
trying to recover and trying to make up for lost ground. And when you give a little
on one end, you feel you lose on the other and thus I am stuck in this endless
tug of war against my two halves.
After a few
weeks of constant nausea, upset stomach, lack of appetite and taste changes,
headaches, body pains and a general weird feeling in my head, I spoke with my
oncologist after he had heard through the grapevine about my symptoms. He is
always so direct and to the point. “I am going to order a head MRI for you and
I will make sure it is done very soon. “ Ahhh…. Are we back to the world of
investigations again? He said he hoped it was just my body reacting to an
overload but that we couldn’t rule out anything in the brain as the symptoms
also were scarily similar to brain mets. I honestly hadn’t thought about it
being more cancer until that moment and it scared the shit out of me. Brain
mets are so unbelievably bad for a breast cancer patient. It is an immediate
death sentence and a fast one at that. I actually had naively thought that my
scans in the summer had included my brain but unfortunately PET scans don’t. So
no one has checked that place out for the dark passenger and it terrifies me. I
keep telling myself that I am fine and that it cant be anything bad. But then
the scary thoughts creep in and the googling starts and….suddenly I am making my
way down the rabbit hole again. Life expectancy after tnbc brain mets…6 – 8 months.
Oh fuck! How the hell do you not freak out about something like this? I
actually think my fears are penetrating my subconscious because I had the most
traumatic dream on Saturday night where I actually killed someone. An intruder
in the house that I attacked with a baseball bat! I can honestly say that I
have never killed anyone in the real or dream world and it made me question
whether this was related to what was happening in my life.
So Wednesday
is the day I will take a trip to Cancer Town to get a lovely photo of my brain
taken and then wait until we know what is happening. As you imagine I need all your positive
thoughts and prayers coming my way so that I can write in my next update that I
am still 100% cancer free!!! So many
things swirl around in my head regarding the what ifs and some of them are
surprisingly rationale in a crazy kind of way.
You always prepare yourself for every possible outcome because that is
one thing cancer teaches you. Be as prepared as you can regardless of the news
you here. Never let cancer surprise you again. SO I am desperately hoping that
this is all a false alarm and just my doctor being very thorough. Perhaps after
this latest episode, it might finally force me to sit down and figure out what
to do with my life as this merry go round I am on can’t keep going around.
Thanks for
your happy thoughts!! Here’s to a happy met free brain!!
OBB
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Coming Back from the Wars
"It was hell to be so tired, and still care." Lois McMaster Bujold, Shards of Honour
I hate when I start a blog on a low note and go straight into all that is wrong with my world. I feel like the nature of all my correspondence recently has also been following the depressed debbie theme and I worry that i am bringing everyone around me down too. I just don't want to be that person who is always negative and when asked how I am doing always has crap things to say. I personally hate talking to people like that myself so I just cannot become that person but I fear that I am. But how do you get around some pretty big issues that are weighing you down tremendously? Do I pretend they aren't there? Is it my fault that I have been chronically ill for years now and am just being honest when I describe what is wrong? It is a conundrum in every sense of the word.
I have been feeling like between a rock and a hard place the last 2 weeks and struggling with some things. First off I got so sick last week and could not even make it up the stairs. I know there is something wrong when I can't even muster up enough energy to read to my daughter at bedtime. That is a sacred special time between the two of us that I rarely miss but I just couldn't do it. Every inch of my body was throbbing with pain and I felt just like I did when I did "sickplatin" last year. Being sick sucks but being sick when you have been sick for so long is even crappier. Your threshold is decidedly lower on what you can handle and I genuinely wanted to scream. Nearly two weeks on, I am not okay and there are no answers as to why. I have had blood tests, doctor visits and even a gastroscopy a few days ago which frankly sucks. I am sure some of you have had it before as we seem to live in a world where stomach ulcers and ailments are commonplace in our hyped up over stressed existence. Well having had most of the more heinous medical procedures on offer these days, this one was downright violent. I felt like a POW at Guantanamo Bay being water-boarded! They forgot to freeze my throat perhaps in the confusion of trying to find a good vein (which is never an easy job) so it hurt. You dry heave the entire time and it is just plain yuck. I signaled twice for them to stop during but of course once you all the way in, you don't come out until you are finished. Seeing as my stomach issues have become far worse in the last 2 weeks, we were wondering what we would find in there. Having been on max prescription anti acid meds for nearly a year now with no relief and regularly feel sick, I was certain something would be there. But there was nothing to see. No ulcers, no nothing...just a whole lot of stomach lining. So what the hell is wrong? Why do I feel nauseous all the time, why does my stomach burn like hell, why do I feel sick after every meal??? This can't just be normal and I am frankly frustrated. And I am so bloody tired. One of my doctors on the Palliative Ward who met me on Wednesday this week took one look at me and said that she had never seen me look so wiped out and exhausted as I did than. She isn't the only one to remark this as many others have said the same and the proof is in the pudding. I feel like I walking around with weights in my shoes and everything just seems to ache. What is wrong with me??
It has put considerable stress on me and my work as well and that is where I find things so hard to balance. I care so much about doing a good job and despite having been ill, I rarely if ever take an actual "sick day". If I have to be home with my daughter when she is sick, I will work from home and get the job done. Since I came back to work, I have been desperately, if not obsessively, been trying to show my worth there and not be seen as the sick girl who can't hack it. That is one of the real challenges of becoming so ill at a time in your life when you should be rising to the top of your career and everything else coming together. I thought that would have been me too but instead I am crawling up this mud hill and keep falling back a few paces over and over again. I feel trapped because I need to work to make a living and I need to do something that challenges me. But how do I do this and also put my health first? It seems impossible to me right now. It is clear to myself and everyone around me that I am not doing that at all and I am on a slippery slope, gambling on a dangerous game where I wonder if tomorrow will be the day my body just gives up. I know that I am not far from that point but I don't know what to do. I can't just give up and I don't want to. Giving something else to the cancer that ate into my life is not what I want to do. It has taken far too much already but at the same time how do I deal with this? Everyone tells me to put my health first but the reality is that my job isn't one where you can just not show up for a day, a week, a month...And I know I wont survive another absence. So I am stuck in this perineal hamster wheel going around and around day after day, getting angrier, more tired and more confused. What would I do if I didn't have to worry about my everyday commitments? I have some ideas about it but it is a scary question to ask and the fear of the unknown engulfs me. My job is such a big part of who i am and it is so difficult to start to see that maybe I need to be the bigger and more important part. To be honest I find this all scary as hell - contemplating the big questions and coming to terms with the fact that things are not the way they are and I am not the same as I was. Where do I get help navigating this rough road? Just being told to stop working isn't realistic for me. But pushing and pushing to the point where the gas tank is empty is ridiculous but that is exactly what I am doing.
This brings up something I think about often - how devastating cancer can be when it hits at a time like your 30s. I feel like your 30s are the time that the foundation is built from which everything else grows from. You establish your career, you buy a house, you can meet your partner for life, you start a family, and you start to think like an adult. I know that is what happened to me. So what happens when that grand master plan gets thrown out the window? What happens when you are so ill that you will never get back to the physical condition you were in before so that you can never work in the same way? What happens when you lean on savings to fill the gap due to loss of income because of unexpected illness and your buffer is suddenly gone? What happens when seemingly overnight your partner must become your caregiver and the nature of your relationship sharply shifts away from that of husband and wife? What happens when your young body becomes marred and permanently disfigured for the rest of your life? And what happens when you can't have the family you always dreamed for? That is what cancer can do when it hits at this supposed prime of your life. It is so destructive and ruthless in what it takes from you and is so far from being a gift in my mind. Things are never ever going to be the same for me and I am terrified. Maybe this is how it feels when you come back from war? You are so very different from the person who left to fight and now you must reintroduce yourself back into a life you no longer know how to cope with. Everything is different because you are different and have seen and experienced things no one will understand unless they were doing it right alongside of you.
What I can see now is that the last 10 months, I have been desperately trying to build back everything I lost even if it means putting myself and my wellbeing last. A friend asked me yesterday how I would feel if for some reason all of this intense stress and work resulted in me getting sick again. How would I feel about it? Would any of it have been worth it? The answer to that question is easy to answer but why is doing it so much tougher for me? I just find all of this so god damn hard to deal with right now and when you are exhausted everything seems to much worse.
I want to digress slightly here as I want to address some comments that came out of my last entry regarding fertility and babies. Many of you were so supportive and had many great ideas as to what else I could do. I did have my appointment with the oncology doctor this week and sadly they shot down every single one of my ideas. It was a blow and maybe it is time to seek additional opinions. Getting second opinions in Norway just isn't done. You take what the doctor says for gospel and never question it. But this is so final that perhaps i need another viewpoint.
I have a lot to think about right now. I just need to figure out what the next move will be.
And please don't take my lack of contact personally. I am struggling with everything these days and am just out of energy. I hope you will reach out all the same as I still value the support from my peeps and desperately need a pick me up.
A pretty wiped out OBB
I hate when I start a blog on a low note and go straight into all that is wrong with my world. I feel like the nature of all my correspondence recently has also been following the depressed debbie theme and I worry that i am bringing everyone around me down too. I just don't want to be that person who is always negative and when asked how I am doing always has crap things to say. I personally hate talking to people like that myself so I just cannot become that person but I fear that I am. But how do you get around some pretty big issues that are weighing you down tremendously? Do I pretend they aren't there? Is it my fault that I have been chronically ill for years now and am just being honest when I describe what is wrong? It is a conundrum in every sense of the word.
I have been feeling like between a rock and a hard place the last 2 weeks and struggling with some things. First off I got so sick last week and could not even make it up the stairs. I know there is something wrong when I can't even muster up enough energy to read to my daughter at bedtime. That is a sacred special time between the two of us that I rarely miss but I just couldn't do it. Every inch of my body was throbbing with pain and I felt just like I did when I did "sickplatin" last year. Being sick sucks but being sick when you have been sick for so long is even crappier. Your threshold is decidedly lower on what you can handle and I genuinely wanted to scream. Nearly two weeks on, I am not okay and there are no answers as to why. I have had blood tests, doctor visits and even a gastroscopy a few days ago which frankly sucks. I am sure some of you have had it before as we seem to live in a world where stomach ulcers and ailments are commonplace in our hyped up over stressed existence. Well having had most of the more heinous medical procedures on offer these days, this one was downright violent. I felt like a POW at Guantanamo Bay being water-boarded! They forgot to freeze my throat perhaps in the confusion of trying to find a good vein (which is never an easy job) so it hurt. You dry heave the entire time and it is just plain yuck. I signaled twice for them to stop during but of course once you all the way in, you don't come out until you are finished. Seeing as my stomach issues have become far worse in the last 2 weeks, we were wondering what we would find in there. Having been on max prescription anti acid meds for nearly a year now with no relief and regularly feel sick, I was certain something would be there. But there was nothing to see. No ulcers, no nothing...just a whole lot of stomach lining. So what the hell is wrong? Why do I feel nauseous all the time, why does my stomach burn like hell, why do I feel sick after every meal??? This can't just be normal and I am frankly frustrated. And I am so bloody tired. One of my doctors on the Palliative Ward who met me on Wednesday this week took one look at me and said that she had never seen me look so wiped out and exhausted as I did than. She isn't the only one to remark this as many others have said the same and the proof is in the pudding. I feel like I walking around with weights in my shoes and everything just seems to ache. What is wrong with me??
It has put considerable stress on me and my work as well and that is where I find things so hard to balance. I care so much about doing a good job and despite having been ill, I rarely if ever take an actual "sick day". If I have to be home with my daughter when she is sick, I will work from home and get the job done. Since I came back to work, I have been desperately, if not obsessively, been trying to show my worth there and not be seen as the sick girl who can't hack it. That is one of the real challenges of becoming so ill at a time in your life when you should be rising to the top of your career and everything else coming together. I thought that would have been me too but instead I am crawling up this mud hill and keep falling back a few paces over and over again. I feel trapped because I need to work to make a living and I need to do something that challenges me. But how do I do this and also put my health first? It seems impossible to me right now. It is clear to myself and everyone around me that I am not doing that at all and I am on a slippery slope, gambling on a dangerous game where I wonder if tomorrow will be the day my body just gives up. I know that I am not far from that point but I don't know what to do. I can't just give up and I don't want to. Giving something else to the cancer that ate into my life is not what I want to do. It has taken far too much already but at the same time how do I deal with this? Everyone tells me to put my health first but the reality is that my job isn't one where you can just not show up for a day, a week, a month...And I know I wont survive another absence. So I am stuck in this perineal hamster wheel going around and around day after day, getting angrier, more tired and more confused. What would I do if I didn't have to worry about my everyday commitments? I have some ideas about it but it is a scary question to ask and the fear of the unknown engulfs me. My job is such a big part of who i am and it is so difficult to start to see that maybe I need to be the bigger and more important part. To be honest I find this all scary as hell - contemplating the big questions and coming to terms with the fact that things are not the way they are and I am not the same as I was. Where do I get help navigating this rough road? Just being told to stop working isn't realistic for me. But pushing and pushing to the point where the gas tank is empty is ridiculous but that is exactly what I am doing.
This brings up something I think about often - how devastating cancer can be when it hits at a time like your 30s. I feel like your 30s are the time that the foundation is built from which everything else grows from. You establish your career, you buy a house, you can meet your partner for life, you start a family, and you start to think like an adult. I know that is what happened to me. So what happens when that grand master plan gets thrown out the window? What happens when you are so ill that you will never get back to the physical condition you were in before so that you can never work in the same way? What happens when you lean on savings to fill the gap due to loss of income because of unexpected illness and your buffer is suddenly gone? What happens when seemingly overnight your partner must become your caregiver and the nature of your relationship sharply shifts away from that of husband and wife? What happens when your young body becomes marred and permanently disfigured for the rest of your life? And what happens when you can't have the family you always dreamed for? That is what cancer can do when it hits at this supposed prime of your life. It is so destructive and ruthless in what it takes from you and is so far from being a gift in my mind. Things are never ever going to be the same for me and I am terrified. Maybe this is how it feels when you come back from war? You are so very different from the person who left to fight and now you must reintroduce yourself back into a life you no longer know how to cope with. Everything is different because you are different and have seen and experienced things no one will understand unless they were doing it right alongside of you.
What I can see now is that the last 10 months, I have been desperately trying to build back everything I lost even if it means putting myself and my wellbeing last. A friend asked me yesterday how I would feel if for some reason all of this intense stress and work resulted in me getting sick again. How would I feel about it? Would any of it have been worth it? The answer to that question is easy to answer but why is doing it so much tougher for me? I just find all of this so god damn hard to deal with right now and when you are exhausted everything seems to much worse.
I want to digress slightly here as I want to address some comments that came out of my last entry regarding fertility and babies. Many of you were so supportive and had many great ideas as to what else I could do. I did have my appointment with the oncology doctor this week and sadly they shot down every single one of my ideas. It was a blow and maybe it is time to seek additional opinions. Getting second opinions in Norway just isn't done. You take what the doctor says for gospel and never question it. But this is so final that perhaps i need another viewpoint.
I have a lot to think about right now. I just need to figure out what the next move will be.
And please don't take my lack of contact personally. I am struggling with everything these days and am just out of energy. I hope you will reach out all the same as I still value the support from my peeps and desperately need a pick me up.
A pretty wiped out OBB
Saturday, September 6, 2014
A Box of Dreams
"The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realise that the situation is over, you cannot move forward." Steve Maraboli
There is a box up in our attic that has stood on its own off in a corner surrounded by other discarded, unused items...waiting. From the outside looking in, most people wouldn't realize what the contents mean to Its owner unless that owner was me. I started putting things into this box shortly after the start of my first remission. I allowed myself to put some of my dreams away during a time of uncertainty and painfully discarded almost everything else in an effort to rip the band aid off and try to get on with it. Life as I knew it would never ever be the same again. But because of who I am and because of how I always believe in hope, I hung on and believed that maybe, just maybe I would take this box back out of its dark dust bunny existence again.
My meeting with my doctor a few weeks ago obviously reaped amazing results and it allowed us to cross another big tick off our cancer check list. Remission - check check. But something else happened that seemed to be dismissed into the background seeing as how huge the good news was. This was also the day that my dreams were crushed into hundreds of tiny jagged pieces...quietly silenced by the big C. I think my doctor had just been playing along with me and my delusions the last few years as he deep down knew that many of my what if conversations were not at all relevant if I didnt actually survive. Survival was paramount and everything else just "stuff." But this time was different, he gave me straight answers to the things I had wondered about since I first got sick. Before it was all vagueness and skirting around the big issues but now it was time to face the music. I guess I should look at this as a good sign because real answers maybe mean that he actually believes that I will beat this thing now so I could handle the truth. No more pretending to the cancer patient about the big unknowns.
I have always been very open in my blog about the situation with my faulty genes. If not open about pretty much everything. Not only did I get the lucky boob lottery but I also had ticking time bombs in the form of my ovaries joining in the battle. My body literally wants to attack me and the only thing I can do is cut parts of it out. Barbaric yes? Other options? None. If you are fortunate to find this kind of info out before hand, you are given a chance to plan ahead and make choices without cancer already invading your body. Definitely not easy decisions but everyone wants to be able to do something first because losing all the power and control. Like having all your children first and removing your bits last. Avoiding cancer completely. I wish I had had the chance to do all of these things instead of playing the catch up again. If only I had a time machine...
So the situation is as follows:
The clock is up suddenly as things have changed for me and I need to get my ovaries out after my next birthday. Happy fucking 35th birthday to me! A hysterectomy and instant menopause sounds frickin' fantastic to me! I think in some ways this is scarier because unlike removing your breasts, things actually happen to you that you feel that are really really shitty. How can I possibly be ready to be a woman in her mid 30s with no breasts, no ovaries and no sense of myself as a woman? It just isnt fair and it never feels like any of this ever ends. I keep giving things up and getting so little back in return. It is like there is a proverbial dark monster waiting around every corner after having already beaten the last one to a pulp. It is exhausting to have to constantly face the unknown and lose bits of yourself both physically and emotionally along the way. I am tired of being brave and cracking a joke to make it all seem okay. It just isn't okay.
The second part of the story goes back to my box that I mentioned farther up. That box contained the most special items that I have kept from my daughter's first breath until today. My dream box where I put all my hopes into that one day when I just might take these things out again for another baby. What could it have been? Another girl or a boy? I will never ever know and it makes my heart ache with heaviness and loss. I had been getting more used to the idea of it just being the three of us again but suddenly having the power of choice being taken away from me brings the hurt all back again. This is it for me and god does it hurt like hell. I find it unbelievably unfair that my husband and I aren't going to bring any other beautiful children into the world seeing as how much we adore kids - not to mention what amazing parents we are. But life rarely makes sense and is often unfair so feeling that way is pointless. When I think back to my younger years, I always imagined there being two. I thought it was the best combination and it gave me comfort knowing that one would never be on its own. Growing up in a family of three, I know how comforting it is to have your siblings to lean on and support you. Like when my father died tragically - we stuck together and pulled each other through it. Or (on a much more superficial note) when my sister lent me her bodysuit to wear to the school dance to impress said boy of the month. Who will pull her through the hard times or teach her how to replace the vodka in the liquor cabinet with water? You just dont want to imagine your child shouldering the burden of everything themselves but this is the reality we are living now. I will just have to work extra hard to give her the most loving life she will know and prepare her for life as much as I can.
I also need to stop allowing myself to feel so out of place and awkward when people talk about their lives that are full of extra children, new pregnancies and their own perfect blissful chaos. I feel instantly like an outsider who has nothing to share or say. I dont know what it feels like to look after siblings or how to get three kids out the door at breakfast time and I never will. I rarely felt out of place before all of this cancer business but now when others discuss the challenges of juggling all their kids and how hard it all is, I secretly want to scream out loud and say how lucky they all are. I will never know what that feels like and I hate the reasons for it. And for those of you reading this who are my friends and have lots of kids, I don't want you to feel guilty reading this and please dont shield me from your lives or filter what you say to me because you want to protect me or think it will make me mad. One thing I never have wanted was for others to modify their behaviour or feel they cant be honest about their own lives with me but just by reading this it might help you understand how I feel and how difficult this is for me. And promise me one thing - please don't tell me about how others struggle with fertility or how others never even get to have one so I need to be thankful for the one I have. One thing I am is thankful for every single gift I have been granted in this life and my daughter is by far the greatest gift. I cherish every single moment I get with her almost to the point of obsession. And I am also fully aware of the pain of others but my situation and circumstances are so very different, most importantly because they are my own experiences, my own sufferings. No one likes comparisons and they only seem to inadvertently minimize someone's pain and circumstance. We all carry around our own pain and heartache so I am just giving you a window into mine.
My husband always tells me that I baby our daughter too much, especially during the last few months. I carry her around when I can and take every cuddle I can get. He reminds me that she will be five soon and no longer a baby. But the truth is, she will always be my baby and I selfishly dont want her to grow up because this is the only chance I am going to get. I cling to the tender moments when I am still the center of her world - a princess in her fairytale world. But soon she will be too big for me to lift - a fact she reminds me will reduce me to tears when it happens. I struggle with this knowledge that all too soon this will all be over and these moments will be just memories like those clothes and toys sitting in that lonely box. That is why I hang on for dear life...squeezing every last drop out of everything.
The reality is that I should have never been born with the wonky mutation that taught my cells to produce Death Star tumours. I should have never gotten cancer once...or twice. I should never have had to remove both my breasts and have to now remove my ovaries. I should never have had to have a doctor tell me that I cant have any more children ever again because it could kill me. I should never have had any of this. But unfortunately there are no magic Harry Potter wands that can make it all better again so all we have is time, grief and the hope that things will be better again. So that box will stay up in that dark corner, suspended in time - its contents made up of what could have been. Memories now and forever wrapped in the most amazing blanket of love.
OBB
There is a box up in our attic that has stood on its own off in a corner surrounded by other discarded, unused items...waiting. From the outside looking in, most people wouldn't realize what the contents mean to Its owner unless that owner was me. I started putting things into this box shortly after the start of my first remission. I allowed myself to put some of my dreams away during a time of uncertainty and painfully discarded almost everything else in an effort to rip the band aid off and try to get on with it. Life as I knew it would never ever be the same again. But because of who I am and because of how I always believe in hope, I hung on and believed that maybe, just maybe I would take this box back out of its dark dust bunny existence again.
My meeting with my doctor a few weeks ago obviously reaped amazing results and it allowed us to cross another big tick off our cancer check list. Remission - check check. But something else happened that seemed to be dismissed into the background seeing as how huge the good news was. This was also the day that my dreams were crushed into hundreds of tiny jagged pieces...quietly silenced by the big C. I think my doctor had just been playing along with me and my delusions the last few years as he deep down knew that many of my what if conversations were not at all relevant if I didnt actually survive. Survival was paramount and everything else just "stuff." But this time was different, he gave me straight answers to the things I had wondered about since I first got sick. Before it was all vagueness and skirting around the big issues but now it was time to face the music. I guess I should look at this as a good sign because real answers maybe mean that he actually believes that I will beat this thing now so I could handle the truth. No more pretending to the cancer patient about the big unknowns.
I have always been very open in my blog about the situation with my faulty genes. If not open about pretty much everything. Not only did I get the lucky boob lottery but I also had ticking time bombs in the form of my ovaries joining in the battle. My body literally wants to attack me and the only thing I can do is cut parts of it out. Barbaric yes? Other options? None. If you are fortunate to find this kind of info out before hand, you are given a chance to plan ahead and make choices without cancer already invading your body. Definitely not easy decisions but everyone wants to be able to do something first because losing all the power and control. Like having all your children first and removing your bits last. Avoiding cancer completely. I wish I had had the chance to do all of these things instead of playing the catch up again. If only I had a time machine...
So the situation is as follows:
The clock is up suddenly as things have changed for me and I need to get my ovaries out after my next birthday. Happy fucking 35th birthday to me! A hysterectomy and instant menopause sounds frickin' fantastic to me! I think in some ways this is scarier because unlike removing your breasts, things actually happen to you that you feel that are really really shitty. How can I possibly be ready to be a woman in her mid 30s with no breasts, no ovaries and no sense of myself as a woman? It just isnt fair and it never feels like any of this ever ends. I keep giving things up and getting so little back in return. It is like there is a proverbial dark monster waiting around every corner after having already beaten the last one to a pulp. It is exhausting to have to constantly face the unknown and lose bits of yourself both physically and emotionally along the way. I am tired of being brave and cracking a joke to make it all seem okay. It just isn't okay.
The second part of the story goes back to my box that I mentioned farther up. That box contained the most special items that I have kept from my daughter's first breath until today. My dream box where I put all my hopes into that one day when I just might take these things out again for another baby. What could it have been? Another girl or a boy? I will never ever know and it makes my heart ache with heaviness and loss. I had been getting more used to the idea of it just being the three of us again but suddenly having the power of choice being taken away from me brings the hurt all back again. This is it for me and god does it hurt like hell. I find it unbelievably unfair that my husband and I aren't going to bring any other beautiful children into the world seeing as how much we adore kids - not to mention what amazing parents we are. But life rarely makes sense and is often unfair so feeling that way is pointless. When I think back to my younger years, I always imagined there being two. I thought it was the best combination and it gave me comfort knowing that one would never be on its own. Growing up in a family of three, I know how comforting it is to have your siblings to lean on and support you. Like when my father died tragically - we stuck together and pulled each other through it. Or (on a much more superficial note) when my sister lent me her bodysuit to wear to the school dance to impress said boy of the month. Who will pull her through the hard times or teach her how to replace the vodka in the liquor cabinet with water? You just dont want to imagine your child shouldering the burden of everything themselves but this is the reality we are living now. I will just have to work extra hard to give her the most loving life she will know and prepare her for life as much as I can.
I also need to stop allowing myself to feel so out of place and awkward when people talk about their lives that are full of extra children, new pregnancies and their own perfect blissful chaos. I feel instantly like an outsider who has nothing to share or say. I dont know what it feels like to look after siblings or how to get three kids out the door at breakfast time and I never will. I rarely felt out of place before all of this cancer business but now when others discuss the challenges of juggling all their kids and how hard it all is, I secretly want to scream out loud and say how lucky they all are. I will never know what that feels like and I hate the reasons for it. And for those of you reading this who are my friends and have lots of kids, I don't want you to feel guilty reading this and please dont shield me from your lives or filter what you say to me because you want to protect me or think it will make me mad. One thing I never have wanted was for others to modify their behaviour or feel they cant be honest about their own lives with me but just by reading this it might help you understand how I feel and how difficult this is for me. And promise me one thing - please don't tell me about how others struggle with fertility or how others never even get to have one so I need to be thankful for the one I have. One thing I am is thankful for every single gift I have been granted in this life and my daughter is by far the greatest gift. I cherish every single moment I get with her almost to the point of obsession. And I am also fully aware of the pain of others but my situation and circumstances are so very different, most importantly because they are my own experiences, my own sufferings. No one likes comparisons and they only seem to inadvertently minimize someone's pain and circumstance. We all carry around our own pain and heartache so I am just giving you a window into mine.
My husband always tells me that I baby our daughter too much, especially during the last few months. I carry her around when I can and take every cuddle I can get. He reminds me that she will be five soon and no longer a baby. But the truth is, she will always be my baby and I selfishly dont want her to grow up because this is the only chance I am going to get. I cling to the tender moments when I am still the center of her world - a princess in her fairytale world. But soon she will be too big for me to lift - a fact she reminds me will reduce me to tears when it happens. I struggle with this knowledge that all too soon this will all be over and these moments will be just memories like those clothes and toys sitting in that lonely box. That is why I hang on for dear life...squeezing every last drop out of everything.
The reality is that I should have never been born with the wonky mutation that taught my cells to produce Death Star tumours. I should have never gotten cancer once...or twice. I should never have had to remove both my breasts and have to now remove my ovaries. I should never have had to have a doctor tell me that I cant have any more children ever again because it could kill me. I should never have had any of this. But unfortunately there are no magic Harry Potter wands that can make it all better again so all we have is time, grief and the hope that things will be better again. So that box will stay up in that dark corner, suspended in time - its contents made up of what could have been. Memories now and forever wrapped in the most amazing blanket of love.
OBB
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)