My thoughts at the end of a three day emotional meltdown.
Sometimes I feel like I am completely and totally alone as I deal with my cancer. Oh, I know that is not totally true as I am surrounded by family and friends and colleagues who love and support me and would do whatever I asked. But in some ways I AM totally alone in this battle for none of you - not my family or my friends or my colleagues - can do what needs to be done.
None of you can take my chemotherapy for me. Or all the other medications I am required to swallow or inject. You cannot deal with the rashes or the hair and weight loss or the nausea. You cannot take my place when the latest crisis hits and I am heading back to the emergency room again. You cannot take my place every single week to get weighed and get stuck (yet again) for blood work. You cannot help me figure out if I am hungry or if I should eat or even if I want to eat.
You cannot take away the sleepless nights where I lay on the couch and feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. You cannot take away the stupid urges that cross my brain at strange times … the need to run screaming down the street… the need to pace back and forth until I wear a hole in the floor. You cannot help the confusion that comes from waking suddenly from a deep sleep, not knowing where I am only to stumble about my apartment like a lost little child as I try to find something familiar to cling to. You cannot fix the “wobbly” mornings where I need to hold onto the wall just to stand upright. You cannot fix the evenings where I sit down the couch and fall asleep till the next morning just from sheer exhaustion.
You cannot make the fear and uncertainty go away. You cannot chase away the strange dreams and weird thoughts that send me spriraling into meltdowns. You cannot bring back my mom to give me a hug and tell me this is all going to be okay. You cannot bring back my dad to tell me that I am strong enough to deal with this illness and the death I am facing.
And - frankly - it sucks being single at a moment like this.
I want someone to turn the air conditioner back to “energy saver” when I get too cold so I don’t have to get up from under the blankets. I want someone to turn off the overhead light in the living room when I start to fall asleep so it doesn’t burn all night long. I want someone to check the door to make sure I remember to lock it at night since I do tend to forget sometimes. I want someone to feed the kitties and clean their litterbox when the nausea is just too much for me to face it. I want someone to steam clean my floors while I clean the bathroom. I want someone to do the laundry while I put it away. I want someone to cook the meal while I do the dishes.
I am just so alone while being in the middle of a loving crowd.
And that sucks, too.
And those are my thoughts at the end of a meltdown that started on Sunday night and finally ended last night. I was even caught crying at my desk by the new dean - our Big Boss. I actually felt bad for him since he said he didn’t know whether or not he could say anything about my illness to me but the crying he just could not walk past. Now he always checks on me to make sure I am okay every time he walks through. I think I spooked him. I think I spooked Mary Sue who came up and gave me a hug today just because she thinks I am wonderful.
Yet I am still so damn alone.
And those are my thoughts at the end of A Meltdown that lasted for a few days. It’s been awhile since I have had a meltdown like this and I am sure there will be more.
They suck
Cancer sucks.
This whole damn thing sucks.
And that - as was once said - is the truth!
Pppphhhhffffttttt!
On it all.
None of you can take my chemotherapy for me. Or all the other medications I am required to swallow or inject. You cannot deal with the rashes or the hair and weight loss or the nausea. You cannot take my place when the latest crisis hits and I am heading back to the emergency room again. You cannot take my place every single week to get weighed and get stuck (yet again) for blood work. You cannot help me figure out if I am hungry or if I should eat or even if I want to eat.
You cannot take away the sleepless nights where I lay on the couch and feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. You cannot take away the stupid urges that cross my brain at strange times … the need to run screaming down the street… the need to pace back and forth until I wear a hole in the floor. You cannot help the confusion that comes from waking suddenly from a deep sleep, not knowing where I am only to stumble about my apartment like a lost little child as I try to find something familiar to cling to. You cannot fix the “wobbly” mornings where I need to hold onto the wall just to stand upright. You cannot fix the evenings where I sit down the couch and fall asleep till the next morning just from sheer exhaustion.
You cannot make the fear and uncertainty go away. You cannot chase away the strange dreams and weird thoughts that send me spriraling into meltdowns. You cannot bring back my mom to give me a hug and tell me this is all going to be okay. You cannot bring back my dad to tell me that I am strong enough to deal with this illness and the death I am facing.
And - frankly - it sucks being single at a moment like this.
I want someone to turn the air conditioner back to “energy saver” when I get too cold so I don’t have to get up from under the blankets. I want someone to turn off the overhead light in the living room when I start to fall asleep so it doesn’t burn all night long. I want someone to check the door to make sure I remember to lock it at night since I do tend to forget sometimes. I want someone to feed the kitties and clean their litterbox when the nausea is just too much for me to face it. I want someone to steam clean my floors while I clean the bathroom. I want someone to do the laundry while I put it away. I want someone to cook the meal while I do the dishes.
I am just so alone while being in the middle of a loving crowd.
And that sucks, too.
And those are my thoughts at the end of a meltdown that started on Sunday night and finally ended last night. I was even caught crying at my desk by the new dean - our Big Boss. I actually felt bad for him since he said he didn’t know whether or not he could say anything about my illness to me but the crying he just could not walk past. Now he always checks on me to make sure I am okay every time he walks through. I think I spooked him. I think I spooked Mary Sue who came up and gave me a hug today just because she thinks I am wonderful.
Yet I am still so damn alone.
And those are my thoughts at the end of A Meltdown that lasted for a few days. It’s been awhile since I have had a meltdown like this and I am sure there will be more.
They suck
Cancer sucks.
This whole damn thing sucks.
And that - as was once said - is the truth!
Pppphhhhffffttttt!
On it all.