For the past week I have been feeling a little uneasy. I guess that has been the cause of the sleepless nights! What seems to be the reason is that after receiving the worst news I could have wished for, till date I always thought I would be the one diagnosed with the big C courtesy by genetic imprint, the shock of getting to know that it was Ranjan who was the chosen target, should have led to a slew of tears, rants, raves and so on. I am normally good at that. I must admit that for the past months when we were trying to identify the cause of Ranjan's symptoms, and I was foraging the Internet for some logical explanation to the symptoms, the fear of Cancer was in me , but I would quickly push away those away and would go seeking for something I was more comfortable with. However I did every test or investigation suggested and all results, even the tumour markers, were within norms. But ranjan showed no sign of improvement and that should have been a red flag. But we are so scared of our demons, that we easily bury them rather than face them.
But this is not a mea culpa post. We dic catch the slimy lymphoma in Stage 1, confirmed by the specialist yesterday but it is 1B which means it had the symptoms we were battling. But as I said, this is not "I should have..." post. What has happened has happened and we need to count our blessings and take on the battle head on!
What is worrying me, is my reaction. I normally deal with the worse situations, and I have had my share, in a totally different way, and that since childhood. I bang doors - so much so that when I was 18 or so my mom bought a whole set of earthen pots and placed them in the back yard and told me I could break as many if I left the doors of our new house alone -. Felt sheepish and I do not think I banged a door since. I cry buckets. Scream. In a word I let the world know I am upset.
On july 4th at around 7.30 pm when I got the news that it could be a lymphoma, I was with my family Doc. I normally have cried in front of him many times in front of him for far less serious matters. This time my eyes remained bone dry. My voice did not quiver, my throat did not constrict. In a cold voice I could not recognise, I simply said: what next? The answer to the question charted the next years of my life. Something on that day froze inside me and has still not begun to thaw.
In the beginning I thought I was just being brave. I had to. I thought it was a brave face and the tears would come at some point. I worked out coping strategies that seem to be doing their job. But something does not sound right.
I have become impervious to everything, the good news, the not so good one. It almost seems as something had left my body and is hovering somewhere waiting for the right moment to take back its place. Could be a good strategy if it was not that I feel I am missing the most important part of me!
But this is not a mea culpa post. We dic catch the slimy lymphoma in Stage 1, confirmed by the specialist yesterday but it is 1B which means it had the symptoms we were battling. But as I said, this is not "I should have..." post. What has happened has happened and we need to count our blessings and take on the battle head on!
What is worrying me, is my reaction. I normally deal with the worse situations, and I have had my share, in a totally different way, and that since childhood. I bang doors - so much so that when I was 18 or so my mom bought a whole set of earthen pots and placed them in the back yard and told me I could break as many if I left the doors of our new house alone -. Felt sheepish and I do not think I banged a door since. I cry buckets. Scream. In a word I let the world know I am upset.
On july 4th at around 7.30 pm when I got the news that it could be a lymphoma, I was with my family Doc. I normally have cried in front of him many times in front of him for far less serious matters. This time my eyes remained bone dry. My voice did not quiver, my throat did not constrict. In a cold voice I could not recognise, I simply said: what next? The answer to the question charted the next years of my life. Something on that day froze inside me and has still not begun to thaw.
In the beginning I thought I was just being brave. I had to. I thought it was a brave face and the tears would come at some point. I worked out coping strategies that seem to be doing their job. But something does not sound right.
I have become impervious to everything, the good news, the not so good one. It almost seems as something had left my body and is hovering somewhere waiting for the right moment to take back its place. Could be a good strategy if it was not that I feel I am missing the most important part of me!
We never know how we'll react when the worst things happen and maybe shock takes over from our normal reactions. And if crying and screaming aren't coming naturally, you can't force it - all you can do is accept the way your mind has decided to cope. Automatic self-protection maybe, or perhaps crying is taking second place to your determination to research and do battle. Either way, it sounds to me like you're doing fine! Irene
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