Posted: March 26, 2011 in Uncategorized

******March 28, 2011****** It’s now 2 days later and I”m working through the pain I was in when I wrote this…..I want to delete it, but I’m not going to. I simply am not going to hide things anymore. *******

It’s hard for me to express myself on a bad day. Today is one of them. I’m feeling the full effects of being someone with a disease. For the past six months, I’ve tried to cope and make sense out of it. Taking my children under my wing, carefully, lovingly. Cooperating with the medical people, proceeding through treatment as independently as possible. Always cautious, sometimes quiet so as not to share too much of the reality of cancer.

There are not many words inside today. The ones that are with me are guilt, disappointment and regret that the tentacles of cancer reach so far. Wrapping around all whom I love. Feeding from me first, sometimes filled with hope, strength and courage, they empty and recoil. Tangling, strangling, refilled with  negativity which can spread. What I fear most. What I try hardest to hide.

Though, there is much to be grateful for…..

Resilient children

Excellent medical care

Brave friends, who have let me be their friend right back, regardless.

Concerned acquaintances

A good prognosis

None of the above can make today any easier. I had to make a painful decision based on how I’m feeling. Due to the remaining effects of chemotherapy, a pending minor surgical procedure, and the upcoming 6 weeks of radiation treatment, there is a precious, once in a lifetime day I’m going to miss. A wedding. My dear nephew has waited his entire life, overcoming  much adversity, for this day. We’ve talked many times over the years, his gentle and fragile heart wanting nothing more than a loving, understanding wife by his side. I always told him that she is out there, just waiting to find him. She did. He is the happiest he has been in his adult life.

Calling him today to tell him I am unable to attend was hard. It was a brief conversation. He understands me well enough to know that sometimes it’s ok to not have to say too much. That’s how close we are.

The strength and energy I’m left with will not be enough to allow me to physically participate on the day which represents many years of loving my nephew, encouraging him, holding him close, always fully understanding of how generous and pure his heart is. Never for a second doubting that his dream would come true.

I’m tired now, I’ve been crying for hours, hating breast cancer, hating the treatment and hating the self-pity. I’ve never felt as angry about having cancer than I do today. There is no comfort for this, none that I want, none that I would even be able to receive. I know the harm I’ve allowed this disease to cause. Tentacles, if I could, I would cut them off.

March 26, 2011

Coventry, CT



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