A peculiar calm

I slept  well last night for the first time in weeks, without the aid of a chemical cosh. I feel calm this morning although I appreciate that it will be months until the effects of Monday's adventure recede in any meaningful way.

Fear of the unknown is so debilitating. The thought of my forthcoming procedure was always present in my mind, pressing for attention, no matter what situation I found myself in. I worked towards the date, 3rd October, as if it was to be my last.

 I planned exciting things to do - visiting a dear Friend in London. We squeezed in so much - Georgia O'Keeffe at Tate Modern, a walk round Spitalfiels, supper at Ottolenghi . Next day, striding through Battersea Park, Cheyney Walk, The Kings Road and The Ivy in Chelsea. Wonderful stuff. Yet in the midst of that I had moments of feeling so grim, so sick, so tired, so overwhelmingly sad that I could have lain down in the middle of Peter Jones and wept. I was frightened . And I felt alone in my fears.

Friends have been very supportive. What could they really say that I wanted to hear though? The suggestion that we grow through adversity , become more insightful and other worldly, infuriated me. I didn't WANT , I don't want, to become a better person, I didn't ask to 'grow' in any way whatsoever . This had been inflicted on me and it just isn't FAIR .

In fact, like a child, that was one of my first responses to my diagnosis - that it wasn't fair. Rather embarrassingly I blurted that one out in the Consultation rooms. I don't sunbathe, have used a high sun factor on my face for years, haven't used a sunbed since the 80's. Why me ?

Another response was, am I being punished ? For being vain, for placing too much value on appearances, for being bad in some way ? I'm not Catholic but these thoughts of judgement and retribution were very real. I felt singled out and I needed to find a reason. Then felt almost immediate guilt when I thought of others with 'real ' cancer ( because that's how a bcc diagnosis can make you think ) . How dare I complain when my form of cancer could not kill me and for others it really is a death sentence ?

Complicated isn't it ? I hope I don't sound like a spoiled brat but one's responses are rarely rational and I need to be honest about the way it felt and feels. The emotions I experienced are, generally, considered unattractive , we spend a lot of our energy, it seems to me, disguising what we are actually experiencing, and at times like this,the effort is almost too much to take.

And so... Of course you continue doing what you always do,with a rictus smile on your face, and hope that the cracks in your persona don't rupture too publicly - like the insides of the heated Camembert ( although what comes out there is, of course, a welcome sight ! ) .

The best responses came from friends who did not try to get me to look ahead, to see anything positive in the situation, but who acknowledged my horror and fear. They were the ones who really imagined how it would feel FOR THEM. They empathised without trying to parcel it all up and move it on. And, invariably , far from being weepy onlookers , they are the ones who, in the last few days have offered practical help.

Just as a post script to this rather lengthy post, I also managed a long week end in Barcelona with my long suffering husband. He went along with my urgent imperative to see, to do, to taste , to keep on moving til the last moment. But sadly, for us both, the tentacles of anxiety and anticipation were wholly effective in strangling the possibility of romance. I was like the Buckaroo Mule, completely wired - one brush and I'd explode !!

Face Day 4