Denial is a word I’m very familiar with. I’m guilty of it
sometimes, and I witness it almost on a daily basis. In December around the
holidays, I was in the office alone, and I had to call one of our IT contacts
in headquarters. We hadn’t talked live since I came back from medical leave so
he asked how I was doing with treatment, my hip, etc. Before I could even help
myself, I told him I was feeling good (which was true), and that I was in “maintenance
treatment.” What the hell?? Chemotherapy isn’t maintenance treatment. Me taking
a daily pill and monthly shot for six months before I had to go BACK to chemo
was maintenance treatment. But it just came out, and I knew it was because I was
still reeling from disappointment and sadness over having to go back to chemo
after getting 6 months off. Also, I really like my contact in HQ, but how much
did he really want/need to know? I don’t think anyone really wants to hear, “well,
I feel like shit and my head could be used as a mirror because it’s so freaking
bald, and I sure do wish I had my 22 year old butt back instead of carrying
around a science project looking waffle ass…” So generally, I tell most people, particularly
at work, that I’m cool and feel fine. I do feel fine, considering what’s going
on. So I just try to joke around with myself about the rest, think of something
that makes me laugh, and go on.
My parents are struggling too. They are always good to me
and I believe they would do anything for me. For example, my mom makes the best
chicken and dumplings I’ve ever tasted. She never enjoyed cooking much, but
there are a handful of dishes that she totally excels at, and chicken and
dumplings is her masterpiece. All I have to do is ask, and she and dad will
come over and make them after church on Sunday. They are a hit with the whole
family, so everyone comes over and we make it a big family event. It’s awesome.
But when it comes to me being sick, they are really struggling. My mom was very
pretty when she was younger and she is still attractive for her age. She puts a
lot of emphasis on physical beauty, and most of the time, she sees me when I’m
at my physical best. I won’t leave the house without my wig or makeup – that’s
part my vanity that I get from her LOL. So when I come to church, I’m loaded up
with BB cream on my face, topped off with Bare Minerals and Colorstay gray eyeliner
to compensate for not having eyelashes. I’m certainly not beautiful, but when I
try really hard, I can pull off “reasonably healthy” when I wear enough makeup
and put my hair on. My mom equates looking good with good health. She just can’t
believe that I could possibly be so sick while looking and feeling so good.
One day when mom hugged me she commented that she was so
thankful for her totally healthy daughter. She’s also told me that she never
really thought I would die. I want her to think positively and it makes me
happy that she’s not all doom and gloom. However, with this disease, you have
to be realistic. I don’t want her or dad to be shocked if I die. I think that
would make the grief process even harder. My dad won’t even talk about it. The conversation shifts from topic to topic, until we are on
something else. I try really hard to be patient and I never say anything to
either of them. I just smile and tell them I’m trying my best, then I say a
prayer for them. Being the younger child, I’m sure they still see me as a kid
sometimes. Maybe that’s the only way they can cope with all of this.
Sometimes, even John seems to be in denial. We don’t really
talk about cancer much. Frankly, I don’t want to talk about cancer all the
time. That’s one reason why I keep this blog, so I can write it all down, and
then think about something else. John listens when I tell him what’s going on –
he rarely gets to go to the doc with me because he’s in court all the time. I don’t
want him missing work because if I ever do get to the point to where I can’t
work, I need him to be safe in his job. But he never ever talks about how
he feels. Is that denial? Or is he just protecting me from how scared he is? I’ve
seen him cry a handful of times, but it’s very quiet. He takes his glasses off
and wipes his face with his hands, very quietly. He’s not a dramatic ugly cryer
like me. When I cry, it’s hard with deep gasps for breath, and the red
splotches stay on my face for at least 2 hours. But John is pretty much the
same all the time, even when he’s stressed or mad, he doesn’t really wig out
much. For the most part, I like this because I can be pretty high-strung, so he
keeps me calm and cool. But it worries me too. Does he need to talk to someone?
He didn’t even tell one of his dearest friends about our situation until I had
been sick for a few months, and I still don’t know how much John told him. He
didn’t tell his dad and brother until about two weeks before we visited them in
Albany – that was almost a year after my diagnosis, and his dad and brother
still don’t know it’s breast cancer. John’s mom died of breast cancer, so he
worries that his family will be negative about it, or try to compare it to his
mom’s battle. I’ve left the decision all up to John on what he wants to tell
them. In addition to that, his dad is 12 hours away and in his 80’s. He seems
to like me, so why make him worry when there isn’t much he can do,
right?
One person that I can always talk to no matter how I feel,
even when I feel really scared or super shitty, is my sister. I tell Cat
everything and she always listens AND she talks too. She even tells me when she
is scared about what might happen to me. I’m so thankful that we can have that
kind of honesty with each other, and that I can cry my eyes out, or even joke
around about what might happen. She never judges and always makes me feel
better. I found out the disease was in my bones around Thanksgiving 2009. Me
and Cat always do Black Friday shopping and I felt soooo bad that day. My leg
was getting worse and I knew it. I was so scared and I limped all over the
mall, praying for it to get better. When I drove her home, we sat in my car
with the car running, probably for an hour while I cried about being so scared
to die, and that I wasn’t ready to go and I had so much I wanted to do. It must
have been heartbreaking for her to witness my meltdown. I know that if the
tables were turned, I would be worried to death all the time. But she listened
and comforted me. I don’t know how Cat deals with it. I pray for her at night
because having her in my life is so important and I know she must be so tired.
So that’s the denial stuff. I’m guilty of it, my family is
guilty of it, and John is guilty of it. What can you do? We are human and have
to cope. Sometimes I I’m totally accepting and realize that I will probably not
live to be old. Other times, I’m convinced that I WILL get better. I pray for
my family every night though. It’s easy for people to feel bad for me because I’m
the sick one. But my family, John and Cat in particular, carry this stuff
around with them every day. To anyone that reads my blog and prays for me,
please remember my family and husband in your prayers too. They are great to
me, but I’m sure it’s a tough life sometimes.
