...but our 'rainy day' continues! It's been forty - 40 - days since the diagnosis. And still we wait. We asked ourselves today if this is right or acceptable - I'm firmly of the view that if someone has cancer the healthcare professionals should be moving heaven and earth to get the patient dealt with immediately. As it is we feel we have been pushed from pillar to post and fobbed off a lot of the time. Sitting around waiting for something to be done is frustrating at the best of times; when you're dealing with cancer it's immeasurably frustrating, scary, and takes its toll on your stress levels. And I'm not so sure it's going to be any easier when something starts to be done...today is Oncologist Day minus 9 and counting.
Romilly was in a bit of a rush this morning - she had to take Bruce (her car - see, she names hers too) in for an MOT test and would have to walk up to college from the garage; this meant getting into Newport in time to avoid the traffic, get to the garage and allow enough time to get to the college for 9am. She did it. Unfortunately Bruce is rather poorly and is going to need some remedial work so she's going to be Bruce-less for at least 24 hours - not an attractive option for an 18 year old girl about town!!! And not attractive for us either as we're going to have to foot the bill.....
It was Tesco day today - so we set off nice and early to get it out of the way. I do like supermarkets when they're nice and empty; really I'd be happy as a sand boy doing my shopping at 3am but I'm just never up at that time. This morning wasn't too bad though, although clearly we'd hit the popular hour for single OAPs and mothers with young children, as there were plenty of both. There's nothing like a screaming toddler filling the building with high pitched screaming to make you want to vacate via the nearest exit; I don't get it with parents these days - was my daughter an exception? Because she never behaved like that in any shop we ever went into - she never demanded something only to scream like a banshee when told no; she never ran around the shop getting in everyone's way and causing havoc amongst the trollies; and she certainly never left my sight. Someone needs to explain to some young mums (not all, I'm not generalising here) that the supermarket is not a bloody playground full of people supplied to monitor your child while you do your shopping. Or is that just me being daft??!!
We went to a local garden centre after that - C needed some spray weed killer to do damage in the garden; they've taken over and he hasn't got the energy to keep getting up and down to pull the buggers out. Roundup it is then! The cafe there does a fantastically delicious cheese scone, so we stopped for a cup of tea and had one. We also had a long chat about how things are going and how he's feeling; sometimes we need to have a cry together and say the things that we're usually too scared to - thankfully it was quiet there and no-one to see us. Letting the fear in for even a short time is, I think, beneficial in a way, but making it go away again is hard. You can't let the fear drag you down the pessimistic road; mentally and emotionally we have to stay strong - me especially as I see my role as propping C up in his fight to get well, and I can't crumble in my determination to see this through; I have to keep him going, keep him believing that this will be something we'll come through the other side of, and that he will be well again. The other option is no option at all. I remember in the past hearing people with life threatening illnesses saying all this, and thinking how brave they were - but now I'm in it I can see if for what it is; the absolute realisation that you cannot believe anything else. It would be like starting to learn a new skill, or a new diet, or a new job, and then an hour later giving up on it and saying you might as well as you'd be no good at it - you HAVE to try, you HAVE to give it all you've got and keep trying, because nothing worth having comes easily.
Today I had to tell someone new about C's cancer as she didn't know; she said she felt numb and didn't know how to react. I had every sympathy - that's how it gets you. And I thought I'd got used to telling people. I haven't - I still felt sick and upset and angry. Bloody disease.
No comments:
Post a Comment