It’s a blessing that we don’t know how many days we have left. I guess if we were told 20 years I’d start to relax (probably shouldn’t) but if we were told 3 years I’d panic. In a sense this disease is a blessing because it reminds us that we’re mortal, something bizarrely one can be too busy living (read ‘working’) to remember, except in the most general of academic ways.
When Husband was first diagnosed I was stunned by the visceral pain that hit almost immediately. I could feel it physically, as a weight on my chest making it hard to breathe. I wanted to literally howl and scream.
Fast forward a few weeks and cancer has become part of our lives. We have in some way almost got used to it. Sometimes I worry that I’m not constantly in mourning, as I had been initially (mourning for the life he would have had but now probably won’t). In some ways I’m mirroring him – he doesn’t want to get bogged down – he’s always been very positive.
When I do research on the web I feel desperately sad at times but I also feel quite positive because I see people living with this disease, not just dying from it.
Am I hiding my head in the sand?
Am I still in shock? I’ve been through emotional shocks before and I have the same sense of disconnect but this is a bit different, possibly because of the timescale (assumed) – we are now looking at a few years rather than potentially just a couple.
Why am I not constantly traumatised by the cancer? Probably because although he is looking rather grey and I notice he gets a bit breathless walking the dog, he doesn’t feel ill.
Am I numb? Unfeeling? Selfish? If I could take this thing myself I would.
I’m providing the support he wants (practical, research, just being there) but I’m troubled that I’m not more emotional about things. Perhaps in some ways it still doesn’t feel real.