I have two scans coming up, one on June 10th to investigate the pain I've been having and another on June 17th to look at my kidney function. And I am filled with fear of what they will find.
Fear has dominated my life for the last six months, and I realize it is my worst enemy. What have I been scared of? Getting bad news, having to tell my parents and children the bad news, chemotherapy, losing my hair, being too tired to keep up with my kids, nausea and vomiting, having my kids see me going through treatment, not being able to make my kids any promises, a nephroscapy bag, not knowing if I will be able to see my children grow up, my parents seeing me die, Jaime going through a loss like this for a second time, Jaime being left alone to raise the kids.
Despite the initial bad news, most of these worst case scenarios have not happened and may never happen. I mean, I realize I will die someday, but it could well be a long time from now and from an entirely unrelated cause.
Yet, I have been all but paralyzed with fear. So gripped have I been, that I have not been able to allow myself the simple pleasure of reading a book. I barely have any interest in anything - t.v. shows, food, my kids' homework. It was the worst after the surgery, especially after my family doctor had that little chat with me. Things have been better, of course, but I still basically live in that little fog of fear.
Why? Why do I insist on keeping myself there? I guess I feel like the fog protects me somehow. If I am already there, and "on hold" from life, I have less to lose if things go wrong. When I received the initial bad news in the hospital, an environment where bad news is kind of normal, I was so de-sensitized, I was barely more than a bit bummed out. Had I been with my family and friends, say at a picnic, or at work, when receiving the same news, I would have been devastated, knocked to the ground.
So I stay close to the ground.
The thing is, and I know it, that this way, while I may be prepared for another blow, for the other shoe to drop, I am living my life low, on the ground, continuously, when I don't have to. And being there will never prepare me anyway. I will just have lost everything. And I will have squandered the rare gift of a Stage 1a cancer, which should be used to make life better and more meaningful.
But fear is still natural and normal. And I am convinced that I am not the only one to react with fear in this type of situation (although there are also many others who react to much worse better than I have). Natural and normal though it might be, fear does not help. We all have to get through what we have to get through, and we can chose to do it fearfully or courageously.
So, I know fear has to be conquered. But how? One way or the other, I have survived up to now, more or less intact. This is what helps me:
- Jaime's unfailing faith that I will be all right. (The psychologist said men react this way and do I find this annoying? Sometimes, yes, but had he ever faltered in his faith, I would have fallen apart.)
- My parents being brave and courageous and not showing me their fear.
- My friends who keep me company during the day when I am alone.
- My friends who can't keep me company during the day but e-mail me throughout the day, or whenever they can.
- E-mailing my friends and telling them how I feel.
- My kids' friends' parents (who are my friends too - the very best) who invite my kids to so many things so they can have fun and be taken care of even with a parent in the hospital.
- Connecting with cancer survivors my age who are so generous in sharing their experience and giving me tips on how to get through this.
- Meditating with my singing bowl. I have little concentration but concentrating on the vibrations of a beautiful singing bowl greatly helps.
- Prayer. I thought I wasn't religious but after you get used to doing it, saying a prayer over and over again starts to feel natural. I also like going to the Hindu temple. It's hard to find solace the first time if it feels unnatural, but the key is to do it over and over again. Then you know there is comfort there.
- (Since I am being honest), a small dose of Ativan, which gives me some relief from anxiety and makes me able to sleep at night. I think the key to controlling dependence is to lower the dose when you don't need it as much, so that you don't have to keep increasing it.
- Eating salad and Indian food (see blog below) which is yummy and makes me think I am doing my body good. And Camino chocolate.
- Walks.
- Planting flowers.
- Writing, because, sometimes, you just are all on your own, and you have to have something you can do on your own.
- My beautiful, resilient kids who tell me things as they see them. "You should probably get back to work full time. You look fine to me."
Though we sometimes don't tell them everything, kids know the truth.
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