Sunday, 30 December 2012


Up until now, I haven't really felt angry about my cancer. It has been a bit of a testing couple of weeks, cancer aside, so maybe that has something to do with it, but I suddenly found myself sitting in bed the other night with proper hot tears of fury pouring down my cheeks. This was after a morning where I was, in all honesty, glad to be on a chemo day because I had already had a total sobbing meltdown at everyone in my path and I really needed to be sat in my own space with no-one bothering me.

So what was different? Two poorly children mostly - DD has been ill for over two weeks with a chest infection and then an upper respiratory tract viral infection that won't shift. DS skipped the chest infection but got the viral one. I picked up the viral one (and didn't tell the consultant because I thought she would delay my next treatment - that's how desperate I got for no further delays and a peaceful day hooked up to a drip - I should mention that I did tell the nurse in the end and it was fine). So I'm tired, my children are tired and, frankly, horrible, nothing has happened in the house but watching telly, people falling asleep all over the place and refusing to eat anything. Generalised crankiness. DH needs reminding constantly that he is as responsible for running this place as I am and therefore could he kindly get on with it rather than expecting me to run the show and tell him what needs doing and I need to keep a careful grip on myself whenever he says that he's tired, so we don't get into the competitive tiredness thing. Because I know he's tired too.

But the real difference is the bloody cancer. That's why my tether is so short and I shout at my children more than usual and I can't be who I usually am. No angel/perfect parent by any stretch of the imagination but usually I can get through this stuff and now I can't. And everyone around me is having to get used to that. And there's only one thing to blame. Interestingly in all my fury I didn't get angry with me (for not living a better lifestyle that might have avoided this in the first place - too late for that kind of thought - or for not doing something about it earlier - ditto) or God. That's not down to my particular set of Christian beliefs, I just don't think it's His fault or some sort of malicious test. It doesn't feel like that, anyway. What it comes down to is that shit happens. Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it all the time, does it?

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