After the pre-admission tests were finished I was able to enjoy a
little honeymoon period. My transplant was still four weeks in the future with
its promise of violent diarrhea, infections, mucositis and nausea. The
discomfort and fear of the stem cell collection was fading into the past. I had
my last shot of velcade and wouldn’t have any more until after the transplant
recovery period was over. So I was in a
sort of happy no-man’s land. I even suggested we might go to America at
Christmas time. But then I had to take it back quickly as I realised in
December I would be having post-transplant “consolidation” drug therapy. I
wouldn’t be able to travel anywhere. I needed the lifeline of Dr Comfort.
Still I was in a tranquil
mood for the next three weeks. We went to see Flight of the Conchords in
concert in Auckland and the warm up comedian Arj Barker really resonated with
me. It was as if he was speaking to me directly when he told the audience that we
were all going to die so to make the best of it. He said to really live every
minute, and that we should simply be happy that we were here at this moment
watching this show. It had all been said before, but this time it really
affected me. I vowed at that moment to do just that. I wanted to be happy that
I was alive for each moment and squeeze whatever I could out of each day,
whether it was watching TV, reading a book or spending time with my family. I
couldn’t spend every day thinking it was all going to be over soon because that
thought ruined the moment I was in. My fate would come soon enough whatever it
was going to be and there was nothing I could do to change that. So I had to
let it be in the hands of the gods or the BIG GIANT FOOT and be happy and
grateful for each moment that delayed the foot from squashing me. I now saw how
disgraceful and undignified self-pity really was.
In spite of the pep talk,
the closer my hospital date approached, the more my mood soured. I didn’t want
to have the transplant for several reasons. The discomfort I would go through
was high on my list but not the highest. While the treatment was still ahead of
me I had hope for a cure. But once it was done there was nothing else but to
wait for the cancer to return. I hated the thought that this would be over my
head for the rest of my life. I even wondered at times if the stress was worth
it.
Everything I learned from
Arj Barker disappeared. I was snippy and short and caused arguments when there
didn’t need to be one. Initially Alex tried to cheer me up by talking about
future travel plans.
“We could still go to Italy
next year.” Alex was patient, understanding and encouraging.
“If I’m still alive.” I was totally sarcastic.
“You’re thinking
negatively.” His voice got a little edgy.
“I didn’t say I was going to
be dead, I just said if I’m still alive”.
It was a pathetic attempt to cover my sarcasm. He knew enough not to
bait me further.
Another evening Alex was
sharpening a knife in the kitchen. He had sharpened the same knife the night
before. Charlotte was in the kitchen with me and I was rolling my eyes at her
as we watched him sharpen.
“Is there a new insurance
policy out on me? Am I not dying fast enough?” It was doubly sarcastic.
He didn’t know what to say.
Another night I criticised
Alex harshly for mixing up a couple of chair mats. I was allergic to our cat
and wanted the mat on my arm chair to be cat-hair free. Alex had thrown both
fluffy chair mats in a pile and didn’t know which one had come from my chair. I
was really angry.
“One day you will be
allergic to something and then you will know how it feels.” I yelled in a
pathetic display of self-pity. Although I had sworn off self-pity weeks
earlier, it had now come back with a vengeance. His patience finally wore off
and he snapped at me:
“You’ve been grumpy for a
week and I’m sick of it.”
I was unrepentant and I
stormed out of the room. I was allowed to be a little grumpy. I had cancer
after all. But it wasn’t the cancer that had me so irritable. It was that I had
a confirmed hospital date now and it was only two weeks away. I was scared.
But that’s no excuse for
punishing my family. I was bringing everyone down. I had to pull myself out of
the cave. I tried to channel Arj Barker again. I really wanted to appreciate
every moment. I slumped back to the family room and apologised to Alex. The
patient partner in me had returned.
“It’s a phase, we’ll get
through it,” he said softly.
My daughters were coming
home from their respective universities and I wanted our time together to be
fun. I had to make myself believe the outcome would be positive both for my
family and for me. I rehearsed another chant:
“I will be well, I will be
well.”
But underneath that there was a chant I couldn’t stop and it was
growing louder.
“I hate my life right now.”
No comments:
Post a Comment