Monday 23 December 2013

Don't ask!

 I met good old Doc P yesterday. I had gone to plan the medical side of the new normal for Ranjan. After we had done so, he looked at me and asked me how I was. My almost reactive answer was: don't ask! Doc P knows me almost better than I know myself. He decided to take some time in spite of his overflowing waiting room and talk. Remember it was in this very space that I got confirmation of Ranjan's cancer in July. On that fateful day it was in this space that my eyes welled with tears that remain unshed because I  willed them to. In the short time when silence spoke more than words, I felt my eyes moisten again and had to draw on all my strength to keep the tears from falling yesterday. I still cannot afford the luxury of a good cry, I know it will break me and as long as Ranjan is not out of the woods, tears will have to remain somewhere within me.

Doc P put on his counsellor's cap and spent some time saying the right things: that I had gone through a lot and had done a great job; that he knew I was on edge and that I had to be strong. I told him that I would remain strong and not let Ranjan down.

This brief interlude when I let my guard down, albeit for a brief instant made me realise how fragile I had become. It was just a trigger away from breaking down and that trigger could be anything: a word, an gesture, an act, a call, an email or a mere whisper. The only thing I knew was that it would not be about Ranjan. That was secure and steady as it was my life's mission. But my reality is larger than Ranjan's lymphoma. I have a home and a family and a larger family that all have depended on me for far too long and have not truly got used to my being AWOL.

So I gathered the troops yesterday and shared with them my state of mind and vulnerability and begged them to ensure that no trigger would come my way. My stress levels are high but is is a catch 22 situation as if I allow the adrenaline to drop, then I will not be able to fulfil my mission.

I am sure that those who love me will understand and that my ship will sail on calm waters.

1 comment:

  1. Dear Anou, your strength in the past months has been incredible and I can't even begin to imagine how much a battle of wills you've had with yourself to keep everything together. All I can offer are positive thoughts from the other side of the world, and I'm certain that everybody who's been there for you up to now will still be there for you after chemo 12 and through the months of the next phase of fighting this epic battle. However lonely this long road must feel, you are not alone! with love, Irene

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