Living day by day with probably-cancer is horrible. I know, having for-sure-cancer sucks worse. Because then you actually have cancer. I know.
But this waiting. And holding on to hope when the logical part of you says there really is no chance of it not being cancer. It is so stressful and ridiculous.
When my family asks how I’m doing, I reply that I’m happy in Egypt for now. As they say, “denial isn’t just a river in Egypt”.
I’m not really in denial. I just can’t get bogged down in the details of cancer-land right now. Because I don’t know them. I don’t know what is happening. I don’t know what will be happening over the next week, or two, or the next year. I have a clue. Chemo, surgery, chemo. But that is a little vague when it comes to planning and scheduling, so I can’t focus on what is coming.
I can focus on getting the kids school work done. I can focus on what we are having for dinner. I can focus on cuddling on the sofa and reading. I can focus on soccer. Taking care of my family – that I CAN do. That is really all I can do. Take care of them and take care of myself. So I’m healthy going into whatever treatment is on deck for me.
I’m still scheduling my panics. For an hour or two after the kids go to bed each night, I panic, scour the internet for survival rates, read blogs, cry over the ones that end suddenly with a grieving spouse providing the last entry, look up chemo drugs and their side effects, learn shorter routes into the hospital in case I spike a fever during treatment, and get angry that my family has to go through this at all.