I'm at that stage now where I'm telling everyone I'm sick. Much as I "knew" beforehand, and tried to "warn" people about what eventually became reality, it still came as a blow to me, and it's doing much the same to my friends and family. Yesterday I had a few crushing moments -- finding out that I actually do have cancer, which eradicated the last bit of false hope I had for an alternative diagnosis, and telling the people I love that I'm more or less fucked. The latter was a lot harder than the former, and altogether a lot harder than I thought.
It's scary, it's demoralizing, and it's aggravating. I don't know if I'm stuck in the "anger" stage of grief, but I'm still really pissed off about my situation. I'm 23 years old, and I have a potentially terminal illness. There's no sense of fairness, there's no sense of equality, and sure as hell there's no sense of compassion or understanding.
I was hoping to keep this entry from becoming so negative, but much as my overall attitude has been for my situation, I'm not going to hide from this, and I'm not going to sugar-coat it.
I guess this next part, however, should have gone in my last entry. It's the purpose behind this blog. At my most selfish, I know there's a lot to suggest art therapy and talk therapy have hugely restorative effects. Yes, I do hope this blog will help me feel better, and get better. On the other hand, I have a small grandiose but rather altruistic hope. Regardless of the course of my treatment, I hope that if anyone finds this blog, whether s/he is fighting cancer, or has a loved one in the same position, finds some inspiration. I can't speak in terms of further down the road, but at this stage, I find that despite my extensive support system (for which I am extremely grateful), I still feel incredibly isolated and alone. Thus, I hope to talk about my experience from the first symptoms, through to the completion of my treatment. Should anyone suffering from Hodgkin's, or any other potentially debilitating disease ever find this blog, I hope s/he will, at the very least, know they're not on their own.
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1 comment:
Armand
I came here via Deborah Lattimore's blog, and got THERE because I've been a "flickr friend" of hers for a while. I was curious about her reply to one of your comments about the fact that she's "dying to see" what you'll come up with.
I'm a cancer (prostate) survivor, now in Year 5 of my post-operation. Granted this kind of cancer is better diagnosed and handled than most but my point here is..
You are ALWAYS alone with your cancer. Even when someone has the very same kind of cancer, is about your same age, this is the most intimately devastating experience opne can experience. I can only image that the loss of one's child could be more devastating. So there, here's my two cents worth.
And we're compatriots as well, me being from Quebec.
Love your blog by the way - will read more as days go by
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