My Angry Stage

I don't want Steven to have this, dammit! Idont want Steven to have this.

Dammit.

You think that someday my thoughts will calm down? You think? It's the first thing I think of in the morning, the last thing at night and probably waaaaay to much during the day. If I dont take those happy little white sleeping pills at night I simply dont sleep - I hold the most complicated and convoluted conversations in my head at night. And then I struggle to wake up in the mornings. And then it hits me all over again. I am SO flippin mad that Steven has this. So flippin mad! I see him and he looks all fine apart from being pale and tired and I want to scream. I want to make it right, to fix it and make at least his young years free of this sh*t. I am SO MAD!

I know that all the statistics, research and new medications and everything shows that this is a cancer that is treatable, even curable. I know that we are fortunate in so many ways. I know that we are all going to get through this and he will be ok even though its going to be a long road. I know this. Absolutely.

I know this - but thats not the point. The point is how do I tell the difference between the angry and terrified in me? How do I cope with the change between the absolute confidence of knowing that he will be ok - to the frustration and worry and absolute anger that a simple common cold will never again be just a simply common sniffle again? How can I stop those incredible peaks of confidence and knowledge and then the fall to the common 'mother concern' times? The point is - he has this thing, and at times it makes me scared, worried, sleepless and oh-so-flippin mad - and I am not the one living with this disease! Is it easier on me or on him? Who could ever tell......... I so badly hope that its harder on me. I can hope.

I am mostly able to be strong around him. Mostly able to hold myself together now for days at a time - and then 'all fall down' happens. I still know the facts, but my heart and eyes won't listen - my sensibilities fly out of the window, and Frank has to hold me till I find me again. I don't know if it is healthy to 'hide' this side of me from Steven or to just be. I absolutely will not have him comforting or protecting me from any worry - that would make everything even worse and make me worry even more - God help us all! How does one find the Normal Button in a situation like this?

It is awful to feel so totally, absolutely and completely helpless.

Ok, now that I have vented, I do feel better again - the downs are always followed by positive thoughts and a definate up - I simply dont allow it any other way! I think it's this that is most tiring - the constant ups and downs - like a permanent roller coaster ride.

As I said at the beginning of this blog, this is going to be a journey along the way in dealing and beating this disease and the reason for the blog is to share that journey. This is just a part of it. Hopefully as time goes by, I will learn to deal with all this much better, and there will be more and more hours and days that are normal. We will all simply have to get used to the new normal.

Thanks for the comments on the blog and the emails - they really help tremendously - spelling mistakes and all! :-)

Steven, you are my "MAP" - Most Admired Person! Not only for how you are dealing with this, but simply because you ARE dealing with it. You show strength in so many ways that inspire me. Writing this makes me think of the words at the Niagara Falls, written by Lau Tzu: "Water is fluid, soft and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong."

Be soft, be strong and I know you will wear away this rock. Love you, my boy. And you too, Ms Laura - my hat is permanently tipped to you and your strengths as well. Mazeltov!