Thursday 17th June
Bugger. I am becoming a real bore. I am starting to think that Andrew should just pack a bag and run away for the duration. This has got to be the hardest thing we have ever endured. It’s hideous. We really though that when he got divorced, that was the most awful thing we had to endure – not seeing his kids when he wanted, his ex-wife behaving like a vengeful maniac – life seemed SO complicated. But now all that seems to have been so much easier to deal with than this. No-one was ill, no-one was dying or thinking about it! Incredible isn’t it, how your priorities and values change? The girls are obviously always going to be the be most important thing in our lives, but the whole prioritising thing goes out the window with cancer.
And it’s very hard. Very hard. Not just for me, but for Andrew. In fact [I think I mentioned this earlier, but I can’t be bothered to trawl through the blog to check...] I actually think that it is harder for him. I appear to have a personality change due to the chemo – this evening we decided that a walk to the quay would be good.
As usual, Exeter weather was totally crap, sunny, but of course a cold, howling gale. Aj drove us to the field that’s about half way to the quay and then we walked the rest of the way – about a kilometre. I had horrible pains in my legs and feet, so of course, instead of saying that, I complained all the way about the weather, the cold, the wind - anything at all apart from what was really bothering me. Grr – I was just being a pain in the butt, as I was afraid of the wind [the wig!!] and my head was freezing [yep – wig again – where’s my hair!??] and my legs had shooting pains up them.
Eventually we arrived at the quay, after a little rest stop here and there. And that was when I realised what I’d been doing – it’s like you know you’re being a twit, but you can’t help it. Had a glass of wine, an argument, and then sorted it - this is one of the million reasons I married Andrew - he is always so fair - this is the most unfair thing that could happen to him and yet still he deals with it well [and actually he doesn’t HAVE to - that’s the thing]. He struggles, but he manages. I am so lucky - some men would have already gone ballistic with me. I would have gone ballistic with me!! In fact I DO go ballistic with me.
The problem is this – I HATE being 'sick'. I HATE having anything wrong with me. And I really DETEST being such a whining, complaining wimp. But I can’t seem to help it. And that’s where the problem lies - I hate what I’m doing, so I do it more? What?? Note to self: must get a GRIP!
Listening to a good sounds this evening- 'Sometimes Sorry Is Not Good Enough'...oh, how true.
And saying that, my marriage is more important than stupid cancer. It’s more important than anything I can think of. If I allow this to colour my mind all the time, what am I? I totally need to get my priorities sorted again. Don’t worry Andrew, after the chemo I will be back to normal...oh yes, babe I KNOW I’m not your average normal person, but it’ll be 'our' normality - a mad sort of normality that we love...
Bugger. I am becoming a real bore. I am starting to think that Andrew should just pack a bag and run away for the duration. This has got to be the hardest thing we have ever endured. It’s hideous. We really though that when he got divorced, that was the most awful thing we had to endure – not seeing his kids when he wanted, his ex-wife behaving like a vengeful maniac – life seemed SO complicated. But now all that seems to have been so much easier to deal with than this. No-one was ill, no-one was dying or thinking about it! Incredible isn’t it, how your priorities and values change? The girls are obviously always going to be the be most important thing in our lives, but the whole prioritising thing goes out the window with cancer.
And it’s very hard. Very hard. Not just for me, but for Andrew. In fact [I think I mentioned this earlier, but I can’t be bothered to trawl through the blog to check...] I actually think that it is harder for him. I appear to have a personality change due to the chemo – this evening we decided that a walk to the quay would be good.
As usual, Exeter weather was totally crap, sunny, but of course a cold, howling gale. Aj drove us to the field that’s about half way to the quay and then we walked the rest of the way – about a kilometre. I had horrible pains in my legs and feet, so of course, instead of saying that, I complained all the way about the weather, the cold, the wind - anything at all apart from what was really bothering me. Grr – I was just being a pain in the butt, as I was afraid of the wind [the wig!!] and my head was freezing [yep – wig again – where’s my hair!??] and my legs had shooting pains up them.
Eventually we arrived at the quay, after a little rest stop here and there. And that was when I realised what I’d been doing – it’s like you know you’re being a twit, but you can’t help it. Had a glass of wine, an argument, and then sorted it - this is one of the million reasons I married Andrew - he is always so fair - this is the most unfair thing that could happen to him and yet still he deals with it well [and actually he doesn’t HAVE to - that’s the thing]. He struggles, but he manages. I am so lucky - some men would have already gone ballistic with me. I would have gone ballistic with me!! In fact I DO go ballistic with me.
The problem is this – I HATE being 'sick'. I HATE having anything wrong with me. And I really DETEST being such a whining, complaining wimp. But I can’t seem to help it. And that’s where the problem lies - I hate what I’m doing, so I do it more? What?? Note to self: must get a GRIP!
Listening to a good sounds this evening- 'Sometimes Sorry Is Not Good Enough'...oh, how true.
And saying that, my marriage is more important than stupid cancer. It’s more important than anything I can think of. If I allow this to colour my mind all the time, what am I? I totally need to get my priorities sorted again. Don’t worry Andrew, after the chemo I will be back to normal...oh yes, babe I KNOW I’m not your average normal person, but it’ll be 'our' normality - a mad sort of normality that we love...
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