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i’m sorry. right now, i cannot be a good friend. i am not a good wife or daughter, sister, neighbor, niece or cousin. i love you. i appreciate everything you do for me and for my family. but for now, everything i have, every smile i can eke out, every happy moment, belongs to my daughter. i can’t give you what you want, not today and maybe not tomorrow either. i don’t have enough for you.
my fear is all-consuming. i am endlessly treading its dark waters. your well-intended positivity crashes into me, knocking me down before washing back out to sea. your genuine, heartfelt words of hope leave me salty-eyed, gasping for air, bracing for the next wave of “you’re so strong!” or “kids are so resilient!”
your generous offers to help are not falling on deaf ears, but i’m afraid my desperate cries for it are. i can hear you happily proposing your casseroles, a walk in the park, an eager “whatever you need!” i’m sure one day i will very much need those things. today i just need simple kindness, compassion, companionship. i need you to hug me and hold my hand. i need you to stop worrying about the tasks on your list and just be with me, sit here and keep my head above water.
i realize nothing about this is convenient for you. i know the closer you are to me, the deeper the water, the stronger current. i’m sorry that you’re being pulled in, challenged, diverted from your regularly scheduled life. but, this is my nightmare and sadly, you’re in it.
so bite your tongue,
you’re not the only one
who’s been let down.
i like the oncologist. he is very kind and reassuring. it looks like it will be about two weeks before i start treatment, as i have a series of testing to complete. two of the tests are diagnostic and two are to make sure my organs are healthy enough for treament.
monday i’ll go for a pulmonary fucntion test. it’s just a breathing test and will show how well my lungs are functioning. this is especially important because of my asthma and the fact that the affected nodes are primarily in my chest and neck. the goal is to see that my lungs are healthy enough for chemotherapy and not at risk for secondary complications.
thursday i’ll have a bone marrow biopsy done at the oncologist’s office. he described the procedure in-depth and assured me it isn’t as bad as it’s made out to be. he prescribed some ativan (lorazepam) for me though, so i won’t freak out during it.
the other two tests are a pet scan and a resting muga scan. once those are scheduled i’ll explain what they are and when they’re being done.
we got our first offer on the house yesterday. we countered last night and are waiting to hear back.
we’re meeting with the oncologist this afternoon. i suppose now we’ll start to get some answers. how sick am i? what kind of treatment? when will it start? how long will it take? as you can imagine, the list goes on and on. in fact, i bet you’ve already asked me your own list of questions. everyone who calls or writes has their own set, but they’re almost all the same.
“how are you?” really, how am i? shitty.
“when do you go to the doctor next?” today.
“what stage is it?” i don’t know yet.
“how’s your husband?” he’s fine. he doesn’t have cancer.
“how’s your daughter?” right now? she’s fine. why don’t you ask me again after i’ve started chemo and she’s crying hysterically because she wants to nurse and i can’t?
“is there anything i can do?” yes. you can call me. or visit. or write. a lot. i need more distraction than you think. please do not make me bad food or offer to take my daughter somewhere. let me complain. let me sleep. don’t think you need to tell me how i need to “keep a positive attitude” or that “kids are so resiliant.” don’t tell me about your problems. i don’t give a shit.
we had to put our sweet kitty levi to sleep this afternoon. he was fourteen, lovely and will be missed so very, very much. this was taken on the last day of february 2007, four days after we brought nugget home from the hospital.
i have hodgkin’s disease.
the nice lady from the thoracic surgeon’s office just called. tomorrow’s appointment got bumped to noon because of an emergency surgery. she wanted to give me “first dibs” on the reschedule time. that’s not making me feel very good.
whatchoo talkin’ ’bout?