Well, the day has arrived for me to have an appointment with the plastic surgeon. This SHOULD be the last appointment necessary before pre-op. I say should because, let’s face it, we have had multiple appointments that should have led to a surgery schedule with no schedule in place at all as yet.
I am worried about my children. Poor Becky told her children yesterday that we needed to have a family meeting, and the eldest blurted “Oh God, Karah is dying, isn’t she?” She quickly told him no, and he then felt that, as long as I am not at death’s door, a family meeting is unnecessary. 🙂 Love him: sweet little (bigger than I am) tough guy.
In the middle of the night Monday/Tuesday, my littlest guy came racing into my room to hop in bed with me because of a bad dream. When Tuesday morning arrived, he woke up crying. His nightmare? Well, he dreamt that I died. And he was terrified to go to school, because he didn’t want to let me out of his sight. I told him I am not dying, I walked him through all the information again, including how small my cancer is and what good news that is. I made him go to school. He is still scared. I attended Chapel this morning with both of my babies. I did it for two reasons: first, my daughter was the candle bearer this morning and she wanted me there to watch the procession; second, my son needs me with him as much as humanly possible. The teachers reported that both of them are starting to come apart at the seams. The longer this goes on, the more afraid they are.
Let’s face it, my already lower energy has dropped further still in the last couple of weeks. I can’t really fake it and pretend I have energy, because I am physically spent. For the first time, they are seeing me showing signs and symptoms of illness. For the first time, I really can feel that something is wrong with me. Up until recently, cancer was more of an abstract: just that thing that is inside me, but other than that completely intangible. Now, I have dropped about ten pounds (and I didn’t really have weight to lose), and I have to lie down a lot during the day. When the kiddos are in school, they don’t see it. But I have to rest even when they are home. They are scared to death.
My first reaction is that I would really just like to cry. But it wouldn’t help them to see that. They need to be able to tell me what they are feeling, without being afraid of what their feelings are doing to me. The bottom line is, as long as I have cancer, we ALL have cancer. And it just seems so unfair.
So, I go to the surgeon today with a lot of heavy weight resting on me. I hope that I can come out of that appointment with news and reassurance for everyone.
Of course, it probably doesn’t help that the homily during Chapel this morning was delivered by a Priest who almost died in the hospital about a year ago. He’s talking about respirators and being unable to move, and I can see the glint of panic in my childrens’ eyes.
I am not dying. I have such a minimal diagnosis right now that I am not even at Stage 1. But the longer this continues, the more everyone suffers while we wait. And I just don’t quite know how to make it better.