Dave and I are both feeling a bit like we are on the “other side” of this Multiple Myeloma experience. It feels wonderful, a sense of relief, and even a bit of guilt – thinking about those who haven’t made it or most likely won’t and even feeling guilty about cancer patients with “other” cancers who are having a hard time of it. One of my favorite posts on the old WhatNow? site was when "AllPeachy" posted a blog about being "in remission, depressed and feeling guilty" - and her family and friends not understanding. It generated a lot of discussion and I learned a lot from it. I must stay that I’m now at that point, and relieved that I recognize it – its not foreign to me, thanks to AllPeachy and all those who had written about it in the forum.
Somewhere during this journey of being treated for Multiple Myeloma with Tandem SCT’s, 2,200 miles from home, we were STRIPPED of EVERYTHING in our lives that was unimportant. I realized how significantly we were stripped when we were done. I certainly had a sense of it during the treatment phase, but it was really obvious at the end, feeling both elated we were done, knowing already we had the desired outcome, and feeling like I was standing on the edge of an abyss at the top of a mountain. On one side was the abyss, and on the other side was a beautiful vista as far as the eye could see. Dave and I both had a feeling of what now, where do we go from here, where do we WANT to go from here? Dave worked through the whole process, so at least he had that to go back to on a daily basis and keep him busy. But what about other parts of our lives? Its all gone, so now what?
We had mentioned to others that we were “taking our life back”. Emm…. that's an interesting statement. Quite accurate in many ways. But, I mentioned to Dave, that we don’t have to take it ALL back! Its almost the silver lining in all of this. We are able, now, to pick and chose, who and what we want back in our lives. Its quite intoxicating and sometimes overwhelming. So we are indeed taking it a little slow at the moment. I’m sure it will build momentum and we will really be feeling this is “behind us” this summer. You are changed forever, but you can move on. Once you've decided that you can in fact move on, it then becomes, HOW do you want to move on. What is important to you NOW.
With the celebration of 2009 being behind us and 2010 being ahead of us, Dave and I will have an interesting time looking at our postulates for the future year and beyond. I'm looking forward to working on this very personal project. During these past 18 months, the idea of looking at all into the future was just something we absolutely did not do. We stayed only with the here and now. We refused to worry about things that had not yet occurred. It was a conscious effort. Its easy to worry about this side effect or upcoming test result and all the possible outcomes and scenarios. But how that can hold you paralyzed is intolerable to me. Remember, I've been through this with my mother and ultimately she died of cancer. I was not going to get myself or Dave into this fearful mode. It was not easy. I had many "dark" moments early going. I called it guerilla warfare!
There was a quote I ran across that stated it well for me... "Worrying is praying for what you don't want." So when the fear set in, and it did, trust me, I would use it to remind myself to stop and contemplate what we WANTED and not what we didn't want, or were afraid of. We planned for the worst, but we hoped for the best, and we kept our attention on the hope. I told Dave early on, in the depths of my fear, that I had come to terms with it and he needed to know that, I AM A SURVIVOR. So I didn't want him to worry or fret about me at all. I wanted him to focus only on getting himself through this process and out the other side. Once I clearly stated to him and myself that I am in fact a survivor, no matter what, I would make it, the fear and the planning for the worst, lifted off my consciousness and I was able to stay focused more on the here and now. Deal only with what presented itself and nothing else. Unburdening myself, unburdened Dave. I believe this was a critical role I needed to play as his caregiver - unburdening him of my worries and his so he could stay focused totally on getting himself well.
Dave has done a fabulous job of learning to live with cancer. He has done a GREAT job of coming to terms with what has happened and managed to view it with a very healthy perspective. We are both feeling very, very lucky.
Lori
“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain!”
