Mood: defeated
I've always tried to be kind. To live my life in a way that showed compassion for others. To imagine other's lives and try to see things that are kept hidden. One of my very favorite quotes is "be kind to everyone you meet, for everyone is fighting their own battles." I love that quote because it is true. And because sometimes, we all need a gentle reminder of that.
Jeff was admitted to the hospital on Monday night. Tuesday morning Malcolm and I went over to the hospital around 9. Just before 11, I took Malcolm back home, got him lunch and took him to school before stopping to grab some lunch for myself to take back to the hospital. Panera sounded good, so in I went. I ordered behind some well-dressed gentleman and his fiancee, but my order was prepared before theirs. As I stepped forward to grab my bag he turned to this beautiful woman with the perfect hair and makeup and Gucci purse and said, "I'm so tired of people being too lazy to dress themselves."
In another lifetime I would have slunk out of the Panera and berated myself for looking like such a hot mess in my yoga pants and band t-shirt. But not in this lifetime. Instead I turned and looked him directly in the eye and said, "Sir, actually, I just didn't think that I needed to be business casual to go and sit with my husband who is unconscious in the hospital." And then I smiled.
That shut him right up. Which was my intention.
But, it's still bothered me all week. Partly because HOW DARE HE? And, in part, because I did look like a hot damn mess. In college, the one time where it is acceptable to go everywhere in sweats, I didn't. I did not attend a single undergraduate course in anything less than jeans with my hair and makeup done. I was also so self conscious that I would have never been seen without makeup except by my roommates, and only then because it's pretty unavoidable.
The older I get, and the more comfortable I am with myself, the more I realize that I don't need to please everyone. And that trying to do so just ends with me upset and feeling defeated.
The thing is, I already feel defeated this week. It has kicked my ass. I have spent more time in the car than I have sleeping and I am beyond hormonal. I am trying so hard to be the caring spouse, the fun and educational stepmom, the daughter, trying to be a friend. I feel like I haven't done a single one of those roles justice this week. I have failed in every single way I could this week.
Here's the thing though; in the same lifetime that would have found me leaving Panera silently I would spend all weekend beating myself up and hating myself. And sure, I'll probably do some of that. It's just in my nature. But, I will also try again. I'll get some sleep and I'll tend to Jeff. I'll recharge myself so when we get Malcolm back on Sunday night I'm ready to practice handwriting and play with his superheros. I will rise again.
They say cancer is a family disease, and I couldn't agree more. It touches every single aspect of life and affects all interpersonal relationships. It's brutal and it's scary, it's humbling and hard, but it has already taught me how much stronger I am than I think. And that, despite my previous opinion of myself, I AM a fighter. I will be knocked down on my feet 1,000 more times before this is done but guess what? I'll get up 1,001. And that is a beautiful lesson.
To all those who have reached out after my last post, please be patient I promise I have read your messages. And I cannot express my gratitude. This weekend I will be answering messages, this week was just too crazy for anything more than this generic thank you. But there are people who have reached out and touched my heart and I will be forever changed because of the kindness shown to me.
Thank you.
From the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.
If you are able, please consider donating to my husband's fundraiser, or spread the word if you are unable to give financially.
https://www.giveforward.com/fundraiser/8t73/jeff-lilland-s-testicular-cancer-fund
Showing posts with label hospitals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospitals. Show all posts
2013/10/11
2013/10/07
Are You There God? It's Me, Ashley.
Mood: scared, exhausted
When we got the news that Jeff's cancer had returned and that he would need three months of chemotherapy, I made a promise to myself that I was going to blog my way through the experience. And so, I write tonight. Bear with me. I am running on 5 hours of sleep and a day from hell. As I started this post I got angry at myself for not writing more of this journey. But, it occurred to me that we have only gotten through one full 5 day cycle of chemo. He has about 8 more to go. It's been just over a week....
That week has felt like a million years. I'm positive that I have aged at least 20 years.
Jeff has tolerated the chemo fairly well, and at the end of his third day we were actually pretty hopeful that he'd get through this without much discomfort and pain. The end of his third day was two days before my last post. Perhaps we got too excited too quick, or perhaps we were just incredibly naive about what this process really is.
The thing is, you really don't know much about chemo and cancer and IVs and pills until you are forced to know. I've always valued knowledge and learning and books but I find, as I sit here too scared to sleep, crying for my husband, for Malcolm, for myself and the loss of some imaginary sense of innocence, that there really is truth to the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing.
I know now, that cancer and chemo seem to be one step forward and three miles back.
I spent all of last night and this morning trapped in my head and hating myself. I got my period for the first time in a year and I hated that it's more confirmation that I can't have a child and that I was even thinking about given our current situation. I hated how fat I have gotten and that I haven't done a damn thing about it. I hated that I have no "best" friends in Iowa and that I'm too scared to get close enough to people to make any. I hated that sometimes I feel like I have no best friend at all. I hated that my sister is too far away and I haven't spoken to my brother in a year and that my mom could do nothing more than listen to me sob over the phone. I hated that Malcolm saw me cry and that he kissed my stomach to make me feel better and all I could do was cry more.
I hated so, so much today.
Jeff was running a fever all day. I hated watching him try to fight it. I hated that he seemed to be unable to do so.
He has been admitted to the hospital with the fever and a low white blood cell count. And I sit on the couch, alone, crying. And scared. The one thing I did know going into this battle is that it is very rarely cancer that takes a patient. It is an illness or infection that they just can't fight. And I am trying so, so hard to KNOW that Jeff is not going to go due to an illness...but I also told myself he wouldn't get this bad. I told myself the cancer was gone after his surgery in April. I seem adept at lying to myself.
And while I have no idea what will happen later tonight or tomorrow morning or the next day, I do know that I don't hate the fact that Jeff is in the hospital. I don't hate that I can't breath because my throat is so tight from choking on tears. I don't hate that Malcolm left the hospital telling me how much he was going to miss Daddy tonight. I don't hate any of that because I am just so aware of what I do have. I am alive. I have Malcolm to talk to, even if it's sad and scary sometimes. And I have a husband I love that I get to see tomorrow morning. And I have a Pomeranian cuddled on my lap, licking away the salty tears.
I have a great iTunes playlist going. I have a pink glittery cup holding my water. And I have people reading this. This might not get read by many people, I don't know. But if it does, I hope it gives you some hope. Or a bit of happiness. Life is scary. As much as we learn and plan and love and think, so much is out of our control. Sometimes it's important to remember that. And to stop fighting for control for a moment and to just be. And to allow what will happen to happen.
And if God is reading this,
Help.
Sincerely,
Ashley
When we got the news that Jeff's cancer had returned and that he would need three months of chemotherapy, I made a promise to myself that I was going to blog my way through the experience. And so, I write tonight. Bear with me. I am running on 5 hours of sleep and a day from hell. As I started this post I got angry at myself for not writing more of this journey. But, it occurred to me that we have only gotten through one full 5 day cycle of chemo. He has about 8 more to go. It's been just over a week....
That week has felt like a million years. I'm positive that I have aged at least 20 years.
Jeff has tolerated the chemo fairly well, and at the end of his third day we were actually pretty hopeful that he'd get through this without much discomfort and pain. The end of his third day was two days before my last post. Perhaps we got too excited too quick, or perhaps we were just incredibly naive about what this process really is.
The thing is, you really don't know much about chemo and cancer and IVs and pills until you are forced to know. I've always valued knowledge and learning and books but I find, as I sit here too scared to sleep, crying for my husband, for Malcolm, for myself and the loss of some imaginary sense of innocence, that there really is truth to the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing.
I know now, that cancer and chemo seem to be one step forward and three miles back.
I spent all of last night and this morning trapped in my head and hating myself. I got my period for the first time in a year and I hated that it's more confirmation that I can't have a child and that I was even thinking about given our current situation. I hated how fat I have gotten and that I haven't done a damn thing about it. I hated that I have no "best" friends in Iowa and that I'm too scared to get close enough to people to make any. I hated that sometimes I feel like I have no best friend at all. I hated that my sister is too far away and I haven't spoken to my brother in a year and that my mom could do nothing more than listen to me sob over the phone. I hated that Malcolm saw me cry and that he kissed my stomach to make me feel better and all I could do was cry more.
I hated so, so much today.
Jeff was running a fever all day. I hated watching him try to fight it. I hated that he seemed to be unable to do so.
He has been admitted to the hospital with the fever and a low white blood cell count. And I sit on the couch, alone, crying. And scared. The one thing I did know going into this battle is that it is very rarely cancer that takes a patient. It is an illness or infection that they just can't fight. And I am trying so, so hard to KNOW that Jeff is not going to go due to an illness...but I also told myself he wouldn't get this bad. I told myself the cancer was gone after his surgery in April. I seem adept at lying to myself.
And while I have no idea what will happen later tonight or tomorrow morning or the next day, I do know that I don't hate the fact that Jeff is in the hospital. I don't hate that I can't breath because my throat is so tight from choking on tears. I don't hate that Malcolm left the hospital telling me how much he was going to miss Daddy tonight. I don't hate any of that because I am just so aware of what I do have. I am alive. I have Malcolm to talk to, even if it's sad and scary sometimes. And I have a husband I love that I get to see tomorrow morning. And I have a Pomeranian cuddled on my lap, licking away the salty tears.
I have a great iTunes playlist going. I have a pink glittery cup holding my water. And I have people reading this. This might not get read by many people, I don't know. But if it does, I hope it gives you some hope. Or a bit of happiness. Life is scary. As much as we learn and plan and love and think, so much is out of our control. Sometimes it's important to remember that. And to stop fighting for control for a moment and to just be. And to allow what will happen to happen.
And if God is reading this,
Help.
Sincerely,
Ashley
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