One more day out here on the left coast then back tomorrow to work and “normal”. Then back again. Then home again. Back. Home. Rinse. Lather. Repeat. And so it goes, because in my family, anyone will do anything for each other as long as they are able to because that’s who we are.
As of now, we sit and wait. The scheduling department still has not called with the date. All the docs, specialists, pathologists, and sundry dominoes must be lined up before the first one can fall. So we wait. Another part of the cancer journey-take a step, wait, take another, wait-your life and the control you thought you had is now in the hands of others. Just one more thing that stinks.
When cancer hits your life, the amount of information is ovewhelming. It is too vast and deep. You simply cannot absorb it all at once. It’s just too much. The fam here is going through the layers as the impact of the disease is changing their concept of ‘normal”. One layer at a time, each one brings it’s assortment of emotions: shock, pain, denial, anger, fear, grief all slowly changing into the dull ache of reality. Occasionally “it” momentarily fades and you feel ’normal’. More than once one of the fam has said, “I feel like this is just a horrible dream and I will wake up and it will all be gone. And then I realize it isn’t and it won’t.” And the stench of it all returns.
That’s when you are pushed in a little deeper and you step into the next layer and start all over again.
Like peeling and onion. Every layer you go through makes you cry . . .
and they all stink.
