One of our followers sent me an email saying she wished she had written about her loss of a loved one to cancer. This really wasn't by choice, but more necessity. Keeping ones sanity to some means bearing all.
While in college, I became obsessed with psychology classes. I took classes not even required for my major, due to the fact I just couldn't get enough info on the human psyche. One particular class detailed the stages of death. That of the patient and the family members detailed into thoughts, feelings and emotion. I kept that textbook oddly enough, something inside me guided me in that particular decision and the book is on my nightstand. We have made it through the anger and denial, now we are on the road to acceptance.
Aggressive cancer is like a runaway train. Careening out of control down a steep slope, it veers to the left, and swings to the right. There are ups and downs, and one prepares themselves for the inevitable....then everything shoots up a steep hill again. The patient goes through so much fear, and while they seem in my circumstance to be able to let it go for a bit, not wanting to get legal paperwork signed as it signals the end is approaching is tragic actually.
I cannot say how I would handle being the patient...that is only evident if I would be in that situation. I am a coward, and do not like the unknown...I am impatient, and selfish when it comes to control over my own life and decisions. I don't think I would allow a disease to make those decisions for me. Then my faith becomes the voice of reason, and lets me know that the spoiled child inside should never go to that dark place. That each and every moment is carefully orchestrated to provide closure to those left behind. Then I feel ashamed for even entertaining such thoughts. This is what happens when there is too much silence, and grasping at the psyche of the loved one losing the battle. One thinks a bit too much.
I am not the steel magnolia I thought I was....how could I have been so wrong about myself? For today, it is what it is. Time to come out of isolation maybe. Walking is good...the dogs need a walk. Our daily walks and outings have come to a halt as of late, and they look out the bay window with longing. So thank you furkids for perching those muzzles on the window seat. I get the message...thank you for that. Nothing will happen for that hour, and all will be waiting when we come back in through the door.
