(no subject)
i feel strangely calm for someone who's been told their dad has cancer and there's the smallest possibility that their mum might as well, all in the span of what feels like the busiest week of the year. and we don't even know for sure how bad the cancer is, or what type of cancer it is, and won't know for at least another week, which means there's no way to start planning for treatment, which should be making me more anxious, but i'm still feeling a little floaty about it all. i've been shirking social niceties and throwing myself full tilt at fandom and tv and food, but that seems to be keeping me fairly stable. which is sort of bizarre in its own way, since my dad's first words when he came back from the doctor's appointment was, "well i've lived a good life and i have no regrets."
the doctor did sound very optimistic, but he's been wrong before, so it's not like the cause for anxiety is nonexistent, but it still seems like a really big leap. and then my mum starts shushing him and my sister starts telling him he needs to at least hold on for grandkids, and i feel like i should be as overreactive as they are, but i'm not feeling it yet.
maybe i'm in shock? i did get extremely teary just telling my colleagues about it this afternoon, but i also chalk that up to being on the last couple days of my period. it still doesn't feel like it's happening to me, except i know it is, because i've been dragging my butt home every day since wednesday to work damage control. i've spoken briefly about it to two friends, as it happened, mostly the initial reaction of oh shit this is bad, isn't it? but since then i haven't really felt like i need to share it yet? it still feels like there's not that much to share.
if i think about it too much i will probably find myself overwhelmed and crying inconsolably, but that feels like a luxury that i don't get to have in the midst of all the craziness. maybe in a week, when i'm off work, or when we have a solid diagnosis and plan that i can cry about, or when i've figured out if the right thing to do is move home for a while to look after everyone despite the voice in my head telling me the only thing keeping me afloat is what little space i still have to myself.
i'm not even going to think about my mum and her ostrich-y tendencies, even after we've seen time and again, and she's complained time and again, about other people's difficulties with the same, and how they should have sought early treatment, and when she's in the same place, she just sticks her fingers in her ears and carries on. it's easier to be mad and / or apathetic about her than frustrated that i can't make her do anything, so - there we go. but mostly i just think oh my god my poor dad. he's probably one of the fittest people i know, but cancer doesn't care about that. and even if it is a small cancer, and i am going to will it into being a small cancer, i swear to god, the treatment is going to be so awful for him. we'll get through it and soldier on, whatever ends up happening, but that feels a really long way away from now.
the doctor did sound very optimistic, but he's been wrong before, so it's not like the cause for anxiety is nonexistent, but it still seems like a really big leap. and then my mum starts shushing him and my sister starts telling him he needs to at least hold on for grandkids, and i feel like i should be as overreactive as they are, but i'm not feeling it yet.
maybe i'm in shock? i did get extremely teary just telling my colleagues about it this afternoon, but i also chalk that up to being on the last couple days of my period. it still doesn't feel like it's happening to me, except i know it is, because i've been dragging my butt home every day since wednesday to work damage control. i've spoken briefly about it to two friends, as it happened, mostly the initial reaction of oh shit this is bad, isn't it? but since then i haven't really felt like i need to share it yet? it still feels like there's not that much to share.
if i think about it too much i will probably find myself overwhelmed and crying inconsolably, but that feels like a luxury that i don't get to have in the midst of all the craziness. maybe in a week, when i'm off work, or when we have a solid diagnosis and plan that i can cry about, or when i've figured out if the right thing to do is move home for a while to look after everyone despite the voice in my head telling me the only thing keeping me afloat is what little space i still have to myself.
i'm not even going to think about my mum and her ostrich-y tendencies, even after we've seen time and again, and she's complained time and again, about other people's difficulties with the same, and how they should have sought early treatment, and when she's in the same place, she just sticks her fingers in her ears and carries on. it's easier to be mad and / or apathetic about her than frustrated that i can't make her do anything, so - there we go. but mostly i just think oh my god my poor dad. he's probably one of the fittest people i know, but cancer doesn't care about that. and even if it is a small cancer, and i am going to will it into being a small cancer, i swear to god, the treatment is going to be so awful for him. we'll get through it and soldier on, whatever ends up happening, but that feels a really long way away from now.