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Monday, December 27, 2010

Isolating

I am isolating myself from people around me ... I easily withdraw from social contacts nowadays. I feel really tired because of the treatments and my feelings are confused about it. I am blaming myself for being in a bad physical condition, telling myself I ought to excercise more, and then being unsure of how much is enough and how much is too much... and sometimes being just so exhausted that I cannot do anything. The possibility of excercising too much is a fact... my body has to recover from the treatments over and over again and it is put under extreme pressure by that task, and I should not add on it too much. I have just read a booklet about feeling exhausted during the treatments and I know it all... just don't see what is so difficult in accepting it that for once, I am so ill that it is stronger than me and I have to give in a little - I cannot go on doing this and that like I have been used in doing in spite of fibromyalgia, diabetes, blood pressure, sleeping problems, asthma... like I have said a few times, I have got one diagnose after another and went on like there'd be nothing although my body has tried to tell me otherwise. Now I must face the fact that my body is not asking me to slow down anymmore, it is slowing down whether I want it or not and OH MY GOD that it is difficult for me to accept it as it is. At first accepting it feels like submitting or giving up... but I know it is the wisdom of finding a balance. Today it feels like something that makes me cry because I cannot feel that I could ever find a balance, ever quit blaming myself of everything that has happened to me. I am crying a lot these days. If someone would ask me why I could not even tell. Maybe I feel I have failed somehow? Failed staying young, energetic, vital...



Somehow it feels like I ought to let go of my previous life and start anew. I don't mean anything else than simply accepting the facts and loving myself the way I am. I think I am doing neither right now.



On the other hand I think like this too: I don't beleive in things just happening without a reson. I got cancer because I needed it. My life like I lived it was impossible because I did not have time to take care of myself and my well-being. I must change it somehow and I have to see to that I remain in the centre of my life. Something had to happen to make me realize that I cannot go on like that and that is final and I cannot postpone the change anymore. I was burning my candle from both ends and I had been doing so for a long time.



My husband said something really beautiful and clever when I was wondering if I was too weary ("rasittava"). He said I was not weary ("rasittava") but "rasittunut" = exhausted, worn-out (by cancer and its treatments). It does not translate into English but in Finnish it was something really beautiful, the way he used those two words. It transformed me from the subject to the object of weariness.



I wish I could learn to see myself that way too.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

A "normal" morning

This was a "normal" morning in that it had most of the breathing problems my worsening asthma brings with it now as the cancer medicines also kill important cells in the breathing system, and dry out all mucosa in mouth, nose and lower breathing system... this was an abnormal morning in that I had no fibro pains - it seems cancer medication kills them too LOL...

I woke up at 7 and realized that my mouth, nose and everything in the breathing system was horribly, painfully dry and that I was only barely able to breathe, just a little... I jumped up, and sitting on the bed inhaled the assthma attack medicine and then started to wait... after 15 minutes, it finally started to help and I felt the bronchus open a bit so I could breathe better. Meanwhile, I used sprays (2 different kind) to treat the painfully dry and stuck nose. It just absorbes everything, the dryness is so difficult. I inhaled the main asthma medicine after that, and the additional one after that, and continues to drink water... next, two different eye drops, one after another, as soon as I felt comfortable to be in a lying position again... because cancer meds also make eyes dry, like paper... by that, it was 7:40 a.m. already. I went to my daughter's room to measure her blood glucose and give her the insulin... then to the bathroom to brush my teeth which feel like sticky even though I brush them thoroughly; the mouth hygienist said it is because of the dryness. Then to use some tablets which could help in mouth dryness... and again himiditating nose, applying lip balm to dry lips (maybe the third time this morning already).... and when I finally felt that I could risk going out to the staircase where we have no heating, I still checked first from my Android how cold it is out-doors - wow, -11 C ONLY.... took a woollen jacket on me and went downstairs to make tea.

What could I eat for breakfast? What would hurt less when swallowed and going down to stomach because I have had pains when eating? Also the mucosa in esophagus is damaged and I get a painful, burning feeling when food goes down... I took Christmas loaf, liver paste, yoghurt (mild sort) and tea, and hoped for the best. I also doubled the stomach protecting medicine I am taking for these problems. To my surprise I could finally eat all I had taken and even have all my medicine, including cortizone for asthma and another additional asthma medicine, at least the cortizone for sure irritating the stomach too.

When I was ready, it was past 10 a.m. It had taken me more than three hours to accomplish all this, and I had not showered yet, I had not dressed up yet, I had not done anyhting extra like read the morning paper or something like that. All that had kept occupying me till that was cancer and its treatments, and especially the side effects I have chosen to live with, and asthma.

If I had had my usual dizziness, clumsiness, stiffness and pains which come with fibromyalgia and which I don't have now, it would have taken me even more time to accomplish all this.

No doctor has ever talked to me about retiring. I still have 11 years to the official retirement. (Fibromyalgia is not accepted as a reason fore retiring in Finland, and till now, asthma has behaved, sort of...)

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

To My Beloved Little Brother (who died Aug 2008)

You died almost three Christmases ago. I used toi send to you photos of our children - you had saved them all, I found them in your drawer. I used to send to you postcards for your name days, birthdays, Christmases, Easters - you had them all too, I found many in your bookshelf on display.The last birthday card too - for your 42nd birthday.



There was a time when we lived in a same household. When I moved out, we grew apart, but never so much apart anyway - and when we had both settled, I with my family and work and you with your house, lady friends, your fishing, your chess and your work, we grew closer again. You started to sms me, telling about your projects. You were often there with a helping hand but never made a fuss of it. When I got married there was no father anymmore to wish the guests welcome to the wedding, so you did it. You were young, but you did it splendidly. You got the wonderful idea of driving family to my wedding by bus, so everyone who wished could come; and you drove the bus through half Finland, and back. We even got a lift in the bus the next morning when you drove us from the hotel we had all three overnighted in. Brother and sister: both had booked in the same hotel, of course.



When you are gone, there is no one left in this world who would be as much like me as you were.



Things don't go the way we'd like them to. You made your decisions, and I believe it made your life shorter. I did not accept your decisions, and I never will - my damn fool little brother - but I love you, and nothing will ever change that.



After your death, I protected your privacy. I did all I could to hide things that I felt you would have liked to be hidden. I protected your private life from all those curious eyes and ears. Rikard and I went through your house and threw away or took for ourselves much of what we thought belonged to your private life. I saved all that you had written, and I cherish it all now. You were talented (of course you were, my brother!).



You wanted to buy me out of our farm but you never started to talk to me about it. Today I have written the document which will finally make me the only owner of that farm. No one thought it would be so. I did not think about the farm at all before you died.



Recently I saw you in yet another photo which Mo Yee had taken about you and your motor bike. You were 16 when you got the driver's licence for that, and you drove to me to Hämeenlinna - and first recently I heard that mother did not know you were there, visiting me. You always came. You came to check my new jobs, you came to see my new apartments, my new home towns, my boyfriends - and you were there immediately when you heard that I was engaged. You wanted to see that man. You came to see every new baby we got. You were the godfather of our firstborn.



The day before your death you came to pick me up from a hotel where I had come with a group. The previous night, you had been driving around to see where we could park our bus when visiting places in your home town. You gave me your car... we talked about lots of things and it felt close, and I am happy we did. I am forever grateful that it was organised so from above - that if you had to die that way, I had just seen you, and I was there to take care of things, and mother.



I have taken care of everything now. Two years after your death I have cancer and I am fighting for my life. Life is not easy for me. And it is always a bit more lonely when you are not here to share it with me.



I had a dream - that we would grow old, and then, when old, sit in a garden and talk - about our parents, about our childhood, about our illnesses that all old people have. Now I know that there is no one to remember the things I do remember. I have no one to talk about them to. I have no one to compare my memories with.



My sweet, dear little brother - I love you. And I miss you, I really do miss you my fool.



With you, I lost part of my own life.



I have cried a lot today. I miss you so much!