I Am Not Alone

I've never been one to go to the restroom when the rest of the women go. I've never been to a girls night out or wanted to attend any function that targeted moms or women. (Although I have been willingly taken to a few such gatherings - and appreciated the thoughtfulness of the person who invited me). And I dread going to showers of any type. It's not that I am judgmental in any way. I do not think that others should not participate in, or furthermore enjoy those types of events. It is clear to me that that type of female camaraderie is beautiful. It's just not me - it's never been me. It doesn't fit. (Full disclosure: I went to Meredith College when it was pretty strictly an all women's institution and to this day, I highly value the experiences I had there that would have been different with guys in the mix, but even then, I still never went in a herd to the restroom.)

I've admired groups of girls who have been friends since high school and continued to go on annual trips together and thought "man, that's cool." I've witnessed beautiful gestures like teams of female friends banding together and spending all weekend in tents participating in a Komen Race for the Cure event. As a side note - I have sponsored friends and teams and appreciate all the money that has paid for the research that has made my experience different than my grandmother's experience. Truly.

Now I've noticed an interesting dynamic in my relationships with females though my recent experiences. When I was first diagnosed, it seemed everyone who had been touched by breast cancer almost felt it her duty to reach out to me. I appreciated it, because I was clueless. Every female who was even curious, who knows how wide open I am, came in droves to ask me questions. I've never hung around so many women in my life. Then right after surgery, the care giver oozed out of a few people who in some cases got more than they bargained for (tee hee - you ladies know who you are).

As time goes on and I'm still just barely improving, I'm noticing that some people are scared to ask. No one wants to hear that I'm not really getting any better. What do you do with that as a concerned friend? It's scary. Do you keep offering to do the same thing? Is the person on the other end tired of hearing "hang in there, be patient, let people take care of you." But really it's OK. If you have a friend or if this is ever you, it's OK. It's OK to ask. If someone's overly private, you'll know. I have a friend who has sent me a card every week. My mother in law will not let me be alone at the house for an hour. She's here - even if other people come by - she's here. I love it.

At the same time, the longer this drags on, the harder it is to fight the feeling that it's old news. It's boring. I keep thinking no one wants to come sit with someone who can't do anything and might fall asleep in the middle of a conversation. I don't want to risk wearing everyone else out. Which brings me to the biggest epiphany I've had thus far:

One of the toughest things to face is the isolating nature of not only having cancer, but the recovery process.

You know that life has not stopped for everyone else like it has for you.

Consider this:

Surgical drains that were supposed to come out in 7 days, 10 at the most, are still in 18 days later
You can't drive
You can't cook
You can't take a real shower
You stink and you know it
You can't brush your hair
You can't always think straight
When you need help, sometimes it's just nasty
You hate to ask anyone caring for you for "one more thing"
You are starting to have all these ideas about what you should be doing with your time...and then you remember, your body doesn't work, and your mind only half works, so someone has to help you or do it for you.

Without going into too much detail, that's where I am. I wish I could magically heal for my husband's sake and so that Ian could give me a "real hug" (he says that's what he's looking forward to the most). I said in my first post that I'm more concerned about the people around me. I still am. I can't take care of myself, but I wish no one else had to either. That's not fair to anyone else. But if you have been one of the many who has pitched in - thank you. I know it's uncomfortable and I'm OK with that if you are OK with that - we'll work past it. I am fighting isolation - I am. Rather than turn inward, I'm choosing to ask for help.

I don't ever want to be a burden, but right now, I just can't pull my weight. Thank you to everyone who is helping Stephen as he pulls it for me. I've always read Galatians 6:2 as the one helping carry someone else's burden. Now I'm seeing the other side. You are all lifting me up and reminding me daily that I am not alone. Much love. I appreciate you.