Yesterday I had a bad day. I felt like I was drowning in anxiety.
In Michaels racing terms, having jumped over the hurdles of bowel cancer, surgery, infection and post operative do-lallyness and thinking that the field would be pretty flat. we find there is another big fence in front of us.
It turns out that the second tumour they found is what’s called a lymphoma, a cancerous tumour on the lymph node. A lymph node is part of the kind of drainage system of the blood..
Before I knew this, as Michaels mind seems to be better, my biggest worry had been managing the incontinence, but suddenly that paled into insignificance.
I had to stay home in the afternoon, as we were having a front window replaced, which had steamed up within the double glazing. Maybe it was a mistake to be on my own all day because all that was going through my head was “cancercancercancer” and “ is this the beginning of the end?”
Eventually I walked down to the supermarket, just to get away from myself and bumped into one of my neighbours, ( who is the biggest gossip) and to my embarrassment, burst into tears in the middle of the detergent aisle.
She was lovely. She took me for a cup of tea and I poured it all out to her. She knew just what to say. No platitudes, just listened and then said “that’s really, really shit!, I am so sorry” I laughed because I have never heard her swear before.
Actually, she was probably the best person to unburden to, as her partner had exactly the same thing, twelve years ago and is now a fit and healthy 80 year old.
So maybe ” the Higher power, karma, God, Allah, or whatever” does move in mysterious ways.
So, getting things in proportion and returning to my house, I really appreciated the return of my lovely view, in more ways than one.
Michael continues to improve slowly, although, just taking him for a spin outside in a wheelchair exhausted him yesterday.
His way of dealing with it is typical denial. He says it seems a bit surreal and he is just pretending it is happening to somebody else. So I have to go along with that.
This and what I see as his fragile mental state, makes it difficult for me to discuss, any fears he might have and my fears and hopes with him just now. Any gentle attempt to discuss “feelings” or even physical discomfort, is just met with impatience and arguments so I just don’t go there.
But what is shocking me now is his attitude toward me. A flat voice. No lightness of tone, no tenderness and whatever I say, however benign, is turned into a silly disagreement. I am walking on eggshells. Yet with others he is sociable and pleasant.
I know this sounds very self centred, but it is really not about me. I am concerned that he may be anxious or afraid and this is a subconscious way of not engaging with me so he doesn’t have to discuss anything….or maybe that is just too much stupid analysis and he is just tired.
I had a friend whose partner had cancer last year and I well remember her hurt at the similar way he treated her. So I guess it is some way people are with cancer.
typical way I have to work to the worst possible scenario and deal with mentally, that in order to be emotionally prepared and then carry on. Which I suppose is what I was doing yesterday.
So I bought myself some flowers.
Today the sun is shining and he smiled at me.
His nurse told me that he had remarked to her, “the care in this place has improved since I got better!”..LOL!
He said he was fed up and bored and I said “ you only have to survive another night.
“Survive, he said, that’s a good word”
He might come home tomorrow.
A year ago we had a lovely day out at the seaside in Estonia.