My parents were older when they had me. When I born, my mom was 45 years old and my dad was 50 years old. Until I was old enough to have a job I had to go wherever my parents would go. One of the things we did a lot of was visiting. We would go visit aunts and uncles on both my parents sides of the family. They would even come to our house and visit. Sometimes it was because one of my uncles needed a haircut and my dad gave
haircuts in the military so they would come to him for their monthly cut. At the time, because I was younger and they were so much older it didn’t seem fun to me but looking back I know how much my parents enjoyed it. Now that many of them have passed, it is fond memories for my mom.
When my husband and I were dating, we had no money so we spent many Friday or Saturday nights dropping in
on one of his sisters and their family and would stay to watch a movie and maybe order a pizza. Things have really changed, visiting isn’t done much now with everyone’s schedules being so hectic with work and running kids to activities. Now everyone just shoots a text to see how you are doing and calls it a day.
When I was going through my cancer treatments, I had a few visitors. I was still working during most of my treatments so evenings and weekends were my rest time. My brothers visited me a couple times, my mom stayed with me a couple times when I was off not feeling well, and a friend stopped by here or there. I understood though. Everyone was busy with their own problems and routines, not to mention that mentally I was not in a good place. Nothing like coming to visit someone and all they do is sit there and cry.
I went through a deep, scary depression. I can’t even tell you why I was, not even today. My brain just broke down. I cried a lot. I couldn’t stop. I had never been in such a dark place before. I felt like I was losing control. I would shake uncontrollably. I would cry. I would have panic attacks and cry some more. I told my oncologist about it and he just sort of grinned and said, “You’ll be fine. It is just your nerves.” That didn’t help me. My next visit I talked to another doctor. I actually tried to talk in between crying. She sent me to one of their counselors. That was worthless. The counselor just sat there and talked about her issues and how she handled them. That didn’t help me deal with my fears, emotions, and depression. I then went to see my general practitioner and asked him to increase my anxiety medication. I had taken it for years. He however recommended I go see a psychologist for some different medication and therapy. I called several different mental health practices and no one could get me in for at least six months! Desperate, I called my general practitioner back sopping and told him I couldn’t see anyone for over six months and I needed his help.
He got me into see a psychologist and a physicist. At one point in the being of my treatment, the physicist I was on three different medications at one time just to function. They changed the pills I was taking for a long time because chemotherapy could decrease the effectiveness. He also put me on another pill to help “boost” my new medication so I got relief a little quicker. Finally, I was on a prescription for something that would help me if I got a panic attack. Before getting this medication, I would wake up and have a panic attack every morning. My husband would go to work late so he could stay with me to help calm me down so I could get it together enough to go to work. He had me playing card games, watch TV, anything he could think of to get my mind to switch gears. I don’t know what I would have done without him. I would go to work and try to hold it together but would just sit at my desk and cry. I had to ask my coworkers to take over answering the phones for me because I just couldn’t. I also asked the educators
I worked for to just give me mundane stuff to do for a while because my brain just couldn’t handle anything with a lot of detail at that time. It was shear hell. Once I got the medicine, I would watch up at 4:00 a.m to take a pill to prevent a panic attack, go back to sleep, wake up at 6:30 and atleast would be able to let my husband go to work on time and know I would be ok. Panic attacks got less. The crying got less. It was all because of the medication. I’m not afraid to admit it. I needed it back then so I did whatever I needed to be able to function. I slowly weaned off the two other pills and I now just take one pill. I can deal with that. I never, ever want to go back to that dark, scary, out of control, place ever again.
The psychologist was another story. He was H-O-R-R-I-B-L-E. I was supposed to have talk therapy with him. That was a joke. Every time I went in there, he would ask me general questions to complete his paperwork. He never really got into anything with me. I told him that I am afraid I will die and not see my grandchildren. I want to live to see my grandchildren. He asked me why that was so important to me! I couldn’t believe he asked me such a question. But it was after the next session I knew he was a waste of my time and money and I needed to just say whatever I needed to so I could end the sessions. Once again, I was trying to tell him how I felt. That I was afraid of dying and the uncertainty of my future. He said to look at everything. The sky, the clouds, the flowers and enjoy them. Ok. That was fine advise. But then he said to not worry about things I can’t control, to do things that I can control….like making my final arrangements! WHAT? Did he just tell me to make my funeral plans?!?!? I was stunned. I was just conveying to him that I was scared of dying so he tells me to arrange my funeral plans. Nope. I’m done with him. The next visit we decided I was good enough to end treatment. I don’t know what I did to be “better” but whatever; I just wanted out. It turned out that a coworker went to him as well and said how horrible he was and so we had a good laugh. About a year later, I was telling someone about that doctor and what he said and a good idea did come from that terrible suggestion he gave me. Since I am 98% sure neither of my kids will read my blog, I think I’m safe in sharing what I came up with. I didn’t like the idea of making my final arrangements but I did think of the idea of making a book for each of my kids with photos of them, their accomplishments, our family, and everything else I can think of to give them when the get married. Luckily my daughter is getting married next year and I am fairly confident I will be around to give it to her, but as for my son, I hope to get his done so that even if I won’t be around, I can make sure he gets it as complete as I can get it until then. It has taken me over 2 years to make my daughters and it is 40 pages long! I am waiting for one more picture…her first classroom as a teacher and it will be complete. I gotta start on my son’s now. So good ideas can spawn from bad ones.
The best piece of advice I got was from a different counselor at the cancer center I go to. I saw her shortly after starting with the psychologist and psychiatrist. We just had one session but what she said really stuck with me, even today. I tell other cancer patients I meet the same thing. She said, “It’s ok not be ok.” That simple sentence gave me a release. It made me feel that whatever I was feeling was ok. It was ok to cry. It was ok to be afraid.
So, if you are fighting cancer, or anything difficult, there is nothing wrong asking for help. It is not wrong to take medication if you need it. In fact, it is very important to recognize if you need help and support. I was lucky that I had a husband that would do whatever I needed to do to get through what cancer was doing for me. Now, three years out, sometimes, I forget how much he has done for me. I love him with all my heart. If you need help, don’t stop until you get it. If you don’t have a support system, look into your local breast cancer support group. The usually are a great bunch of ladies and know where you are coming from and are experiencing some of the same emotions, physical symptoms and fears you are.
Finally, don’t be too busy in life to forget about those around you. Find time to visit. Our time is limited here on earth. All those stories from older relatives and friends will be of great value someday. I find that when I go visit my mom and she start talking about the old days, I discreetly turn on my recorder on my phone and tape her. Those stories will be lost with her when she is gone. My kids will cherish them someday. Don’t text, talk. It’s a dying art.
Hugs!