Post #10- Things Have Changed
A memory that I love and cherish from my childhood is my mother taking my sister, Dawn, and me to feed ducks and geese at a huge lake in the Metroparks of Cleveland. We would all go and take stale bread, tear it into little pieces, and feed the ducks that came up to us. My mom would hold onto the back of the sweatshirt or t-shirt that we would wear, so we wouldn’t fall in. I used to love doing this activity and seeing how graceful and calm the ducks were gliding across the water (despite my huge fear of birds). This leads me to ask you a favor - please don’t stop asking me how I am….just know that I am I’m kind of like one of those ducks these days: on the surface, I’m super calm and gliding across the water with ease; however, under the water, I am paddling like hell just to stay afloat.
Allow me to elaborate….
So, it happened again. Lying in bed this past Friday night, cuddled up with Rich, and I felt the familiar warmth of tears flowing down my cheeks. Rich asked “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I was crying because I was in pain. The physical pain was bad, but my mental pain was way worse.
Friday I had been active. I was running errands, running around the house, and trying to get ready for the holidays. When I was crawling into bed, I noticed how sore my lower abs were and knew I had worn myself out. While we were in bed, I was on kind of my side / back, and I knew I was stuck. I was like an obese turtle that couldn’t roll over and couldn’t move myself. I couldn’t get my knees bent for leverage to get myself all the way onto my side. I was frustrated and done with my body not working. I was sad to not be back to my “normal” self. And, that’s when the tears started.
I am so grateful Rich is as patient as he is, as I’m sure it is hard for him not to be able to “fix” any of this for me. I tried to explain what I was feeling, but I was at a loss for words in that moment. What I finally was able to utter was that I was grieving. When Rich asked what I was grieving, I started to rattle off about a dozen things. I think he was in a bit of shock and didn’t know how much I was actually hurting.
I touched on this a post or two ago, but, I wanted to explain my thought. I believe I am grieving for my life before all of this. When things were “normal”. I feel such a loss for that life. Now, I’m not a completely ungrateful asshole…I do realize just how extremely lucky I am. I know how much worse it could have been, and I also realize how many people would trade places with me, in terms of their diagnosis. I do know this…which, doesn’t make this any easier. It is so incredibly hard for me to verbally explain the dichotomy that lives in my head. Hopefully, my written words will help.
I’m grieving for my ignorance and naiveté. I am grieving for the feeling of trusting my body and not questioning every little pain. I am mourning the loss of knowing my body could do whatever I asked of it (besides pull-ups - I hate pull-ups). I feel I have lost the ability to go back to feeling “normal”. Let me try and break it down.
Before my diagnosis and operations, I was never scared to go to the doctor or to receive results at the doctor. I was always of the opinion that I want to know what’s going on in my body and, whatever it may be, I will handle it. Now, I shudder at the thought of even going for bloodwork. I keep getting the feeling that something else will be uncovered. And, I get it - I am so happy this tumor was found. I am. But, I also know the pain that goes with it. I also saw people who had it way worse and heard the pain they were in. Before this summer, I never had to go to the hospital, or stay overnight, or depend on anyone else physically. I was “healthy”. I now know I wasn’t - that’s what’s super scary about all of this. I know all about the symptoms of cancer - I have been asked a million times what I’m feeling or what I have noticed about my body and overall health. And, there I was - in “picture perfect” health, and I had a large, cancerous tumor just hanging out, in my pelvis, waiting to wreak even more havoc. It’s a hard feeling to shake - knowing it could be happening again, and that I could go through it all again. I try not to focus on it, and hopefully time will be kind to me, but when it is literally all that matters, it is hard to pivot off of those feelings.
I get asked a lot, “How are you?”or “How are you healing?” And, as much as I greatly appreciate people checking in on me, I don’t know how to answer that question post-cancer. If I felt it was socially acceptable, I could go off on a 20 minute soliloquy about how I’m doing. Some days I feel great! Some days I feel like I’m a trainwreck. I know that is 100% normal - people who haven’t gone through this are the same way; however, my perspective is totally different from what it was. My bad days are not what a bad day used to be. I used to get so upset about such bullshit - work deadlines, people’s indecisiveness, people walking slowly on NYC sidewalks. Wonderfully stupid shit. Now, my bad days have to do with actual physical pain, concerns over my body and if it is functioning (or not), and my dark thoughts. Now, don’t get me wrong - I still get weirdly upset about what others may feel is dumb. It just feels a bit more “heightened” with some anger. There is resentment inside of me - not a “why-did-this-happen-to-me” resentment; but, more of a “you-couldn’t-possibly-understand” resentment. I know this is messed up and something I am learning to cope with. I do think I need some more time with it. My biggest hope is that time will handle most of it.
So, again, I hope you keep checking on me and asking how I am doing. Just, please be patient if I pause before responding - I’m trying to figure out that answer for myself.