BOOM!
Again, today, the floodgates were demolished. This time, Byerly's was the culprit. I went in (with my bloodshot eyes disguised behind my sunglasses) and came out with a lot of food ... and my bloodshot eyes disguised behind my sunglasses.
Heather picked me up, and we went to see a movie. Then, I returned home, opened a bottle of wine, and made a meal out of it. (Well, the wine plus a little bit of sushi and two cookies.) Scott came back from Phoenix and hugged my pain away.
Here's what I have discovered: I wish that I was sick. Really. I want to go back to the hospital and again slice off the offending parts of me. Although that period of my life totally sucked, it was also productive. Here's why: we were doing something about the cancer. I have come to the realization that I think that I will die of cancer. I realize that this is not a very politically correct thing to say. I'm supposed to say that I kicked cancer's butt. I'm supposed to say that I am a survivor. But, I don't feel like a survivor. I feel like a person who once had cancer and who is waiting for it to come back. I'd rather it came back right now. I'd rather go to the doctor this month and have him say that my tumor-marker is up. Because then, at least, we would make a plan and start trying to kill this stupid disease. Instead, I'm just sitting here waiting for it to creep back into my world and destroy more parts of my life.
Waiting is hard. I don't want to be someone living with cancer. I want to be someone who beat cancer. I don't hold out much hope that I will get there.
Suck it, cancer.
8 comments:
I'm glad you wrote about it--I was kind of hoping you would. I hope it helped, a little.
Love you. Please ask for help when you need it.
I love you and I am sorry that you are having a rough time. Thanks for telling us about it. Even if we don't know exactly how to help or what to say, and know that we can't make it all better, it is good to hear how you are feeling so that we can at least try. We love you Liz.
Also, Burlesque is playing at the Riverview Theater. It is at 7 tonight and 2:50 tomorrow. The acting is terrible and the plot is predictable, but there is lots of great singing, dancing, and costumes. Also their nachos are extra good and they use real butter on their popcorn. Tickets are only $3! Just an idea...
I'm writing you an email right now to discuss all of this. But right now, in this moment, I want you to know that we are here for you, we are strong, and you HAVE beaten cancer.
You are better than this, and we love you.
I'm sorry I didn't see this post until now. It is heartbreaking (as several of your posts have been over the year). I guess all I can say is that we're saying prayers and lighting candles for your health - which also means your emotional health.
Its good to be honest with your fears - it will help you face them more clearly.
You are so strong. You are so strong. You are so strong.
You are so loved. You are so loved. You are so loved.
I cannot say it enough.
Worst Friend Ever is just reading this now. Boooo.
I love that you are sharing this with all of us, but I hate that you are feeling it. I get what you are saying - things are supposed to be rainbows and butterflies right now because there is currently no sign of cancer. But it can't be all sunshine and teddy bears because you are still processing everything. Please - give yourself permission to process.
I hope you keep writing here - I am happy you haven't had anything specific (test results, etc) to write about, but I think you still have a lot to say about your journey and I want to hear it. And I know I'm not alone in that!
I love you, friend.
You're there. You've beat it. You're giving yourself permission to feel things instead of just fight. That's not a bad place to be, although I suspect it doesn't feel so good. I'm picturing you with emotional armor on so it doesn't hurt quite so much. Love, A
PS I echo Heather's post, except to add that you can't ask for help even when you don't need it and if you just (in some tiny corner of your heart) want help.
You really don't want to be fighting cancer again. You want your body and your mind to be at peace with what happened. Accept that you had cancer and that the surgeon removed it. Cancer might come back, but it probably will not. Try saying to yourself every day: I am a lucky woman, loved and supported and fully insured! Focus on the blessings of today rather than on any fears of the future.
Love and hugs for you, Liz. It is my hope that you seek out breast cancer support groups as there are many women who have been in your shoes and successfully worked past these same feelings. You shouldn't deal with this alone or just with your family and those of us who read your blog.
Post a Comment