Last Friday I had dinner with a family I used to babysit for. I've known them for over 10 years, and we consider each other family. I've known their girls since they were 2 and 4, and now they're 11 and 13. I can't believe what amazing young girls they're growing into.
I only told Deb and Richard about my diagnosis maybe less than two months ago. I knew I could've told them sooner, but as I've said before, I didn't want that many people knowing in the beginning. It was a heavy secret to keep from so many people I love, but I needed more time to process the reality of it. Finally, when I told Deb and Richard, I was greeted with nothing but love and support. Deb said Richard cried. I'm sure it was hard for him because his sister has gone through this. At first, they didn't want to tell the girls, which I respected. However, when I had dinner with them on Friday it was apparent that they'd told the girls the news. They didn't want to hide the reality of the situation from them - they need to know that these things happen unexpectedly in life. And they weren't sure what I'd look like, and didn't want the girls to be alarmed. Luckily, since I don't see them often, they probably wouldn't have been able to tell much of a difference, but I'm glad they know. I think it's important for them to see me and learn at an early age how imperative self breast exams are. Jade, the youngest, was super sweet and kept wanting to give me gentle hugs, which I welcomed with open arms. Ruby is in her teenage years, so of course didn't talk too much, so I'm not sure her thoughts on the subject. Maybe when I visit with them again I'll ask if they have any specific questions for me.
In addition to the girls, one of Debs long time friends came to dinner, and eventually my cancer came up. He was incredibly surprised to hear of my diagnosis simply based on my appearance. I guess I really don't look like a cancer patient, even though I can see all of the effects it's had on my body. He told me I looked robust and healthy. Later on in the evening, he commented that he'd never seen anyone on chemo so happy and smiley as I was. Deb and Richard told him about my strength and determination, and how I've never backed down from anything. Which made my heart melt a little to hear how much they've bekieved in me over the last 10 years. It was a good feeling. Eventually Deb had to kick me out and tell me to stop being polite by staying when she could clearly see I was exhausted. I always feel bad leaving places early. But, that's me, trying to please others, as usual.
This post wasn't just supposed to be about that dinner, though. A recurring question that people ask me is how my parents are handling this, more specifically my mom since I still live at home with her and she's watching me go through this. My dad has continuously told me that I'm his hero. I haven't talked with him too frequently on the subject because it always makes me cry, and he feels like my tears are his fault, and he also has his own health stuff going on right now. I really don't know how my mom is handling this. She's trying to be strong for me, and I'm trying to be strong for her, but also opening up about my feelings when I'm struggling, and she doesn't like it when I cry, either. So I often cry in my room behind closed doors, or at the grocery store, on a walk, last week at the gym, and with incredible frequency in my car. I guess I feel like this is hard enough for her as it is than to watch me constantly struggling. And she's often said, "please don't cry." And I know it's not because she doesn't want me to express my feelings, in fact she might welcome it since we haven't always been close. I think it's more so because she can't really do anything about the tears. She can't take my pain away, as much as I know she'd much rather be going through this than me. I wouldn't want that. I'm much happier taking on this burden than anyone else in my family, but a mother shouldn't have to see her daughter go through this. So I do the best to find the balance in expressing my emotions to her, but also being mindful of how it effects her to see me hurting and struggling. I know I said I'd stop being strong for everyone else, but my parents are an exception to the rule. I want them to be proud of me for making it through this. I don't want them to feel even more helpless than they probably already do by watching me struggle through the daily frustrations that this journey has brought on.
Today is infusion #4. After this afternoon, I'll be 2/3 of the way done with chemo. I don't want to go sit in that chair today. It's such a bittersweet experience. Especially because I finally start to feel normal, and then it's time to go back and deal with the side effects all over again, and worry about the possibility of new ones. But all I can do is take it one day at a time and hope for the best.
I went to the beach last Thursday. I'll write about that later. Off to go pack my chemo bag and get ready for today's hospital visit. The only upside to starting early today is getting to end early.
I'm always amazed at how my mom, not a crier, totally tears up if I do. I think I've only seen her cry twice on her own, without my tears coming first. While it's sweet, it's made it that I cannot experience most kinds of emotional pain in front of her - because it becomes an issue of my wanting to take care of her instead of feeling what I need to feel. I say this because I think hiding to cry, especially at home, is probably the only way you're going to be able to let it out comfortably. I think it has something to do with kids being a piece of their parents - the parents just can't take it.
ReplyDeleteAll that said, you know I'm a champion for crying any and everywhere. I cry at acupuncture, on BART, in my car, while walking to the movies, in front of first dates, ordering coffee...I can't think of a public place I haven't cried. :)
xoxox
Alicia