Recovery
At this point, the details are well-known to my friends and family, so I can skip rehashing them. Instead, this is about the period of recovering and how it feels. The emotions that are roiling through are sometimes hard to explain.
For the most part, I try to stay positive. It’s easy enough to find things to do to keep me from dwelling on negative thoughts. Then, too, counting my blessings is easy. I’m surrounded by loving people and I have a support system in place.
There are days when things overwhelm me. These don’t happen often, but when they do, it feels like nothing is manageable and I’m standing in the middle of a tornado trying to hold on to the ground. I am not always able to say “Help!” or even take a breath.
Maybe it’s childish, but the things that are most likely to trip me off are “well-meaning” comments, those that come from someone who is trying to help but doesn’t know how. You know what I mean: the forwarded email from someone to say that “if you don’t eat these things, you won’t get cancer,” or the “You should go to this ‘alternative medicine provider’ because doctors are idiots” type. Perhaps worst of all are the ones who forward on emails that say that you can avoid or cure cancer by eating / avoiding certain foods. I think that my doctor put it best when he said “if eating certain foods will cure cancer, none of my patients would ever have got sick.”
That aside, I find the changes in myself hard to handle. I dislike the scar immensely. It is a permanent mark of a very difficult and painful period. It’s also a constant reminder of things like my mortality and of the treachery of my body. I don’t like waking up to find that I’m swollen and puffy, or the pain that haunts me for the first few hours every day. I resent the nausea after each pill and the almost constant exhaustion that dogs me.
Those are the thoughts that I try to avoid – except when they creep in, uninvited, during the wee hours of the morning when I can’t go back to sleep.
Most of the time I can remember that I am alive, and getting healthier, thanks to the intervention of my doctors. The scar that haunts me is a reminder of the fact that I am alive and very blessed. Each morning, I can say a heartfelt “Thank God!” for being alive, and for my family and friends who show their care in a thousand tiny ways. I have a number of things that I can do, and there are options available to me to keep me from falling into despair.
To the people who have said that they “can’t handle” this – you don’t have to. All that you need to do is be cheerful and positive. If you can’t do that in person, then an email with a silly joke will do just fine. The ones who are angry – this is happening to me, and I’m past anger. It doesn’t help when you begin to rant about the cracks in the system and how I have difficulties. We all have feelings about this – and I truly appreciate them all. When I have needed to cry or to be angry, thank you for letting me. I will return the favour. But just now, what I appreciate most is knowing that I am not an outcast.
I don’t know how regular this blog will be; probably about as often as I think I have something to say. But however frequent it is, I do love my family and friends, and your support.
For the most part, I try to stay positive. It’s easy enough to find things to do to keep me from dwelling on negative thoughts. Then, too, counting my blessings is easy. I’m surrounded by loving people and I have a support system in place.
There are days when things overwhelm me. These don’t happen often, but when they do, it feels like nothing is manageable and I’m standing in the middle of a tornado trying to hold on to the ground. I am not always able to say “Help!” or even take a breath.
Maybe it’s childish, but the things that are most likely to trip me off are “well-meaning” comments, those that come from someone who is trying to help but doesn’t know how. You know what I mean: the forwarded email from someone to say that “if you don’t eat these things, you won’t get cancer,” or the “You should go to this ‘alternative medicine provider’ because doctors are idiots” type. Perhaps worst of all are the ones who forward on emails that say that you can avoid or cure cancer by eating / avoiding certain foods. I think that my doctor put it best when he said “if eating certain foods will cure cancer, none of my patients would ever have got sick.”
That aside, I find the changes in myself hard to handle. I dislike the scar immensely. It is a permanent mark of a very difficult and painful period. It’s also a constant reminder of things like my mortality and of the treachery of my body. I don’t like waking up to find that I’m swollen and puffy, or the pain that haunts me for the first few hours every day. I resent the nausea after each pill and the almost constant exhaustion that dogs me.
Those are the thoughts that I try to avoid – except when they creep in, uninvited, during the wee hours of the morning when I can’t go back to sleep.
Most of the time I can remember that I am alive, and getting healthier, thanks to the intervention of my doctors. The scar that haunts me is a reminder of the fact that I am alive and very blessed. Each morning, I can say a heartfelt “Thank God!” for being alive, and for my family and friends who show their care in a thousand tiny ways. I have a number of things that I can do, and there are options available to me to keep me from falling into despair.
To the people who have said that they “can’t handle” this – you don’t have to. All that you need to do is be cheerful and positive. If you can’t do that in person, then an email with a silly joke will do just fine. The ones who are angry – this is happening to me, and I’m past anger. It doesn’t help when you begin to rant about the cracks in the system and how I have difficulties. We all have feelings about this – and I truly appreciate them all. When I have needed to cry or to be angry, thank you for letting me. I will return the favour. But just now, what I appreciate most is knowing that I am not an outcast.
I don’t know how regular this blog will be; probably about as often as I think I have something to say. But however frequent it is, I do love my family and friends, and your support.
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