OK, I think I am over this cancer. It has been interesting- a ‘real’ experience and I think we have handled it beautifully, but can we be done now?
Today is a rainy day and I can feel it affecting my mood. It has slowly hit me how much this cancer diagnosis influences every area of my life. I am okay. I am functioning and even enjoying my day to day life, but even when I am not consciously aware of it, I think I am constantly ‘dealing’ with this news. My husband’s sarcoma diagnosis is like a blanket that has been thrown over our lives. Our lives are essentially the same- just now it is all happening under a blanket, ( a scratchy, woolen army blanket.)
There are still a handful of acquaintances that don’t know about my man. My man and I were talking recently about how it is a relief to bump into one of these people. It is a short period of time out from under the ‘blanket.’ Recently at our son’s end of year pre-school party, I told another parent what has been happening in our lives. I feel sorry to have to tell people. Once they know- whenever they are with us, they are under the weight of the news. “I am sorry to make you come live under this scratchy woolen blanket with me, but this is where we live now.” I know it can’t be easy for those of you who are here with us.
People affected by cancer often say they are surprised by who ends up being there for them and who doesn’t. I haven’t found that to be true. Everyone wants to support and help us. Unfortunately it isn’t that easy. Why is some ‘help’ helpful, and others not? I wish I knew. There seems to be some ever changing, invisible set of parameters defining what feels supportive and what doesn’t: food- very supportive, comfort quilt- not so much, a hug and how are you- very supportive, “I wouldn’t want to be you”- not so much. It has to do with my own delicate balance. There is fear and sadness lying in wait- I see it there, but it isn’t time to go there yet and hopefully it never will be.
Today I heard of a friend of a friend who had a son who had what my man has, (whatever that may be.) He was told there was a 75% chance of recurrence. This was 7 years ago and the boy is fine. I like this story. My man is now more than half way through radiation and seems to be sailing through it. The USA won their game today and hopefully so will Germany. Summer vacation has officially begun and life goes on.
“It is a sensitive thing,” a woman said recently, as she tried to sort out how to best ask me about how we were doing. I get that. So thanks for being under this blanket with us and tip toeing through the land-mine that is trying to delicately deal with cancer.