Posts
Sunday Jan 30th, 2011
Have you noticed? It is some spring in the air today (or have I just woken up from cyto-coma, LOL). The light looks spring-like, bird-song has something of spring in it, and also other noices sound a bit more like spring. Like, car tyres crashing the ice on the street while they go... Funny, it is actually not even February yet... a bit early for spring feelings, but I have been dusting and having the window open and enjoying because I am not freezing... and throwing away quite an amount of paper. There is lots of that sort of thing to do and there is still a limit of what I can do... but at least I will not be getting worse anymore (because there will not be any more cytostates for me for the time being, and I indeed hope never... )
I bought a Bookeen e-book reader for myself, and as it turned out that dear husband started to use it more than I did, I gave him an own one for Christmas. Now I must check if the books I want to read are available in e-books too - we don't have room for one more traditional book anymore but I am still buying them. Mostly such ones that are not available in an e-book form yet. Or then I don't find the e-book versions, which will annoy me later. Reading an e-book is a much lighter job than reading a normal, traditional book - it is not as heavy so it is easier for my rheumatic hands to hold and I like that very much!
I did the right thing when I added on my cortizone dose from 20 mg to 40 mg daily. My outhaling values (Peak Flow) have risen and I feel better, and breathing is not prohibiting me from doing things anymore. I cannot do whatever but I hope it is getting better. Also the weather has been favorable: not so cold and dry anymore! And I have been able to sleep enough! All important things!
Wooow, things could be better but I feel happy with them as they are now - it is much better anyway than it has been for months! And I hope and believe they are getting even better!
I love you!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Facing the fears, and being happy
Phew! Have been cooking and baking most of the day and have surely overdone it but I have also had wonderful time and once again seen what an amazing family I have and how well it works together! I feel so entirely happy... I have enjoyed the whole day, and especially I have been happy to meet friends and our godson who drove this way on their way home from Lapland.
I have been going on in my thinking about isolating... sometimes, maybe very often, I am indeed too tired to talk to anyone, and sometimes, maybe really very often indeed, I wish I will meet nobody who wants someting from me... but... there is a but indeed...
I love to be needed. And I do need my friends. I love my friends and I miss them even if it is me who is staying away from contacts. And I am still, still truly happy when I meet someone and can have a good talk like tonight. I was even beforehand happy to know we'd meet them, and I am still happy to have met them... it means really a lot.
It is not easy to be a friend to someone who has cancer. Many people, also my friends, are afraid of the disease, and I know many of them have had to face their own fears to be able to stay in touch with me. To many, cancer has till now meant death and loss. A few have lost their parents to cancer. True - I may die of cancer but I am not dying just yet. I may even get well, actually chances are quite big I am getting well. Anyway, I am living in this moment now, and I cannot know of the future. I wish my friends would not try to, either. We have this day together, it is now that we have each other - let us enjoy it now when it is possible, and not worry about the future.
I also know that I am a creature made by God. I cannot tell Him He has made something wrong when creating me. If someone tells otherwise, s/he must be wiser than God is. So I just have to accept myself the way I am - incomplete, unperfect and whatever. I am good that way and I can be happy and proud of myself even though I am not complete. It is being merciful to myself (and I still have to learn a lot about it).
I am happy I am me, and I am happy my family and friends are the wonderful persons they are, I am really privileged in that sense. I am also so proud of my friends, especially those who have dealt with their own fears to be able to stay in touch - I appreciate it more than I can say.
I have been going on in my thinking about isolating... sometimes, maybe very often, I am indeed too tired to talk to anyone, and sometimes, maybe really very often indeed, I wish I will meet nobody who wants someting from me... but... there is a but indeed...
I love to be needed. And I do need my friends. I love my friends and I miss them even if it is me who is staying away from contacts. And I am still, still truly happy when I meet someone and can have a good talk like tonight. I was even beforehand happy to know we'd meet them, and I am still happy to have met them... it means really a lot.
It is not easy to be a friend to someone who has cancer. Many people, also my friends, are afraid of the disease, and I know many of them have had to face their own fears to be able to stay in touch with me. To many, cancer has till now meant death and loss. A few have lost their parents to cancer. True - I may die of cancer but I am not dying just yet. I may even get well, actually chances are quite big I am getting well. Anyway, I am living in this moment now, and I cannot know of the future. I wish my friends would not try to, either. We have this day together, it is now that we have each other - let us enjoy it now when it is possible, and not worry about the future.
I also know that I am a creature made by God. I cannot tell Him He has made something wrong when creating me. If someone tells otherwise, s/he must be wiser than God is. So I just have to accept myself the way I am - incomplete, unperfect and whatever. I am good that way and I can be happy and proud of myself even though I am not complete. It is being merciful to myself (and I still have to learn a lot about it).
I am happy I am me, and I am happy my family and friends are the wonderful persons they are, I am really privileged in that sense. I am also so proud of my friends, especially those who have dealt with their own fears to be able to stay in touch - I appreciate it more than I can say.
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.
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...)
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!
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!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
What does being a cancer survivor mean to me?
What does being a cancer survivor mean to me?
by Ugri Fenno on Sunday, November 21, 2010 at 8:56pm
I am, according to definition, an acute cancer survivor. It means that I did not die of it, but the treatment procedure started with me and I am now living it through.
What does it mean to me?
It means that nothing is the same than it used to be.
It means that I still have my family and their support, but also that my having cancer is loading them enormously in all ways: our income is less and we have to adjust to that since I don't work; it in turn means that all our planned and unplanned travels have been canceled beceuse right now we cannot afford them. It means that many other things have to be postponed or canceled too, but we can manage as long as I will have a job to return to after I ahve gone through this healing time.
It also means that when I am often tired and must concentrate in getting more fit to survive, and to prohobit the cancer from recurring, I cannot do so much at home either. It means others must share a bigger deal of household work. We have tried to involve children and I think it works as good as it can, they have to be reminded all the time, but my wonderful husband has always shared a huge deal of household work and I am afraid this will loas him even more.
What it also means is emotional stress to my near and loved ones. I know my children are living a hard time emotionally, being worried of me and stressed by the uncertainty cancer brings with itself. It feels awful to me to see that, understand that, and not being able to take that burden away. Anyway, they are just kids! It feels so unreasonable to them.
ANd to my husband. I don't know it he has anyone to talk to about his feelings. He does not talk about his fears to me, or about my possible death, or anything. When he is with me, he denies it all - at least to me. He is a wonderful support, I am just so worried that he takes a too heavy load too. I think we are all protecting each other somehow.
And to me too... I live in uncertainty and I try to find out the strength to live in it, not only now, but during the rest of my life. Sometimes I live one day at a time, sometimes, when it is really hard physikcally and / or mentally, I live one hour at a time. I live more in thne present than in the future. And for some reason ... memories have taken an important and meaningful place in my life and among those things that matter. I mean both good and bad memories.
Right now being a cancer survivor means toi me that my life goes in cycles: cytostate infusion on Friday, after three weeks Thursday lab tests, on Friday cytostates again, and in between all other doc appointments, struggling with side effects, fear of hair loss, mental coping with physical and mental feelings that are rised by the treatments... sometimes I get lost in my feelings and I ahve learned to be really cautious and careful in expressing what I feel - I think I don't have so many people around me who can really take it all so I better invest in future friendships - that they exist also in the future - and not load them so much now. Which leaves me quite alone of course.
But this has also shown to me that I have great friends... and that they are far more capable in expressing their friendship than I had ever thought of. Many take time to be with me, some travel long ways to me... I appreciate it very much. Of course, it makes the contrast really huge to those who don't have time or interest. I try to adjust and not expect anything - after all, friendship is voluntary and I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I don't want anything that anyone must force him- or herself to.
I am painfully aware of that medication affects me in all ways - physical, and mental too. I am painfully aware of that I cannot control myself as much as I'd like to. I do and say things that I should not, and I am all the time afraid I may hurt someone or be too direct or... just anything. I cannot ask for understanding because of being ill and drugged... at least I feel so. It does not give me the right to behave in an inappropriate way. I HATE to behave that way and I'd like to apologise and talk things through when it happens....
I am also very sensitive myself and get hurt easily - which I don't want to say because I feel uncvmfortable if I think people are being overly careful with me. I am sensitive - very sensitive - about my privacy, for example. I hear and read things in a different way sometimes - "understand" things that are not really there. I can say, in general, that ALL things mean a lot more to me now.
But being a survivor also means to me that I have survived the acute pass-away. It means that there is hope in my life, and hope is in a very important place in my life right now. It also means that I am doing really everything that I can and that is in my power to survive in the long-term, too. To survive permanently. It means ups and downs, and constant starting from zero... and constant fight against depression which could be caused by the physical conditon collapsing after each treatment...
And it means constant balancing with everything that I ahve listed. Surprisingly, it also means that my days are pretty busy - if I include everything that my rehabilitation needs,a nd taking care of the financies (which means writing continuous allpications to the social security), and running errands and doing some household work - I am full.time occupied anyway, even if I don't work. But I think it is worth it.I am worth the effort now. I have never invested in myself like this. I feel that now I have to. Not only for myself, but for all those who love me and care for me and who want to share many more years with me.
God speaks to me very directly, like He always has. In sermons, preaches, through friends, via the Bible. ANd that, though it comes last, is not the least thing in my life. I would be really lost without faith.
by Ugri Fenno on Sunday, November 21, 2010 at 8:56pm
I am, according to definition, an acute cancer survivor. It means that I did not die of it, but the treatment procedure started with me and I am now living it through.
What does it mean to me?
It means that nothing is the same than it used to be.
It means that I still have my family and their support, but also that my having cancer is loading them enormously in all ways: our income is less and we have to adjust to that since I don't work; it in turn means that all our planned and unplanned travels have been canceled beceuse right now we cannot afford them. It means that many other things have to be postponed or canceled too, but we can manage as long as I will have a job to return to after I ahve gone through this healing time.
It also means that when I am often tired and must concentrate in getting more fit to survive, and to prohobit the cancer from recurring, I cannot do so much at home either. It means others must share a bigger deal of household work. We have tried to involve children and I think it works as good as it can, they have to be reminded all the time, but my wonderful husband has always shared a huge deal of household work and I am afraid this will loas him even more.
What it also means is emotional stress to my near and loved ones. I know my children are living a hard time emotionally, being worried of me and stressed by the uncertainty cancer brings with itself. It feels awful to me to see that, understand that, and not being able to take that burden away. Anyway, they are just kids! It feels so unreasonable to them.
ANd to my husband. I don't know it he has anyone to talk to about his feelings. He does not talk about his fears to me, or about my possible death, or anything. When he is with me, he denies it all - at least to me. He is a wonderful support, I am just so worried that he takes a too heavy load too. I think we are all protecting each other somehow.
And to me too... I live in uncertainty and I try to find out the strength to live in it, not only now, but during the rest of my life. Sometimes I live one day at a time, sometimes, when it is really hard physikcally and / or mentally, I live one hour at a time. I live more in thne present than in the future. And for some reason ... memories have taken an important and meaningful place in my life and among those things that matter. I mean both good and bad memories.
Right now being a cancer survivor means toi me that my life goes in cycles: cytostate infusion on Friday, after three weeks Thursday lab tests, on Friday cytostates again, and in between all other doc appointments, struggling with side effects, fear of hair loss, mental coping with physical and mental feelings that are rised by the treatments... sometimes I get lost in my feelings and I ahve learned to be really cautious and careful in expressing what I feel - I think I don't have so many people around me who can really take it all so I better invest in future friendships - that they exist also in the future - and not load them so much now. Which leaves me quite alone of course.
But this has also shown to me that I have great friends... and that they are far more capable in expressing their friendship than I had ever thought of. Many take time to be with me, some travel long ways to me... I appreciate it very much. Of course, it makes the contrast really huge to those who don't have time or interest. I try to adjust and not expect anything - after all, friendship is voluntary and I don't want to be a burden to anyone. I don't want anything that anyone must force him- or herself to.
I am painfully aware of that medication affects me in all ways - physical, and mental too. I am painfully aware of that I cannot control myself as much as I'd like to. I do and say things that I should not, and I am all the time afraid I may hurt someone or be too direct or... just anything. I cannot ask for understanding because of being ill and drugged... at least I feel so. It does not give me the right to behave in an inappropriate way. I HATE to behave that way and I'd like to apologise and talk things through when it happens....
I am also very sensitive myself and get hurt easily - which I don't want to say because I feel uncvmfortable if I think people are being overly careful with me. I am sensitive - very sensitive - about my privacy, for example. I hear and read things in a different way sometimes - "understand" things that are not really there. I can say, in general, that ALL things mean a lot more to me now.
But being a survivor also means to me that I have survived the acute pass-away. It means that there is hope in my life, and hope is in a very important place in my life right now. It also means that I am doing really everything that I can and that is in my power to survive in the long-term, too. To survive permanently. It means ups and downs, and constant starting from zero... and constant fight against depression which could be caused by the physical conditon collapsing after each treatment...
And it means constant balancing with everything that I ahve listed. Surprisingly, it also means that my days are pretty busy - if I include everything that my rehabilitation needs,a nd taking care of the financies (which means writing continuous allpications to the social security), and running errands and doing some household work - I am full.time occupied anyway, even if I don't work. But I think it is worth it.I am worth the effort now. I have never invested in myself like this. I feel that now I have to. Not only for myself, but for all those who love me and care for me and who want to share many more years with me.
God speaks to me very directly, like He always has. In sermons, preaches, through friends, via the Bible. ANd that, though it comes last, is not the least thing in my life. I would be really lost without faith.
What is a cancer survivor? http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-a-cancer-survivor.htm by Ugri Fenno on Sunday, November 21, 2010 at 7:52pm
What is a cancer survivor? http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-a-cancer-survivor.htm
by Ugri Fenno on Sunday, November 21, 2010 at 7:52pm
A cancer survivor is generally defined as anybody who is either in the process of surviving cancer or who has already had treatment for cancer. With that definition, anybody who currently has cancer or who has had cancer at some point in his or her life can be considered a cancer survivor. There are some difficulties associated with surviving cancer, some of which are physical and some of which are emotional or social.
Many people break cancer survivors up into categories based on what phase of cancer survival they are currently in. The first phase is often called acute survivorship, and it would generally include anybody who is being treated or still suffering with the direct effects of cancer. The second phase is called extended survivorship, and this generally includes all people who have went through treatment and are trying to continue their lives afterward. Both phases of survivorship have different challenges that individuals must overcome.
When trying to survive cancer, there are often many lifestyle changes that a person has to make. For example, many people may need to give up certain poor habits. Others are generally required to change their diets or take certain supplements and medications. After having cancer, many people make a concerted effort to improve their overall health, and this can involve increasing the amount of exercise they get.
Another major challenge that many cancer survivors have is mental. For example, they may have a lot of fear about the disease recurring. These anxieties can make life very difficult for many cancer survivors. Sometimes people may worry that every sickness they get may have something to do with their cancer returning, and learning to deal with these fears is generally a big part of overcoming cancer.
A cancer survivor can often have lingering physical problems that can make life more difficult. For example, a lung cancer survivor may have difficulties with breathing that will never go away. Sometimes during cancer treatment, doctors are required to remove certain body parts or organs, and this can leave people with permanent challenges.
Some cancer survivors may have problems in their social or professional lives. They may worry about telling new people about their cancer because they fear it may lead to special treatment or being singled out. When people get cancer, it can also be a very stressful time for family and friends, and this can cause people to behave in inappropriate ways, which can lead to long-term difficulties in relationships.
by Ugri Fenno on Sunday, November 21, 2010 at 7:52pm
A cancer survivor is generally defined as anybody who is either in the process of surviving cancer or who has already had treatment for cancer. With that definition, anybody who currently has cancer or who has had cancer at some point in his or her life can be considered a cancer survivor. There are some difficulties associated with surviving cancer, some of which are physical and some of which are emotional or social.
Many people break cancer survivors up into categories based on what phase of cancer survival they are currently in. The first phase is often called acute survivorship, and it would generally include anybody who is being treated or still suffering with the direct effects of cancer. The second phase is called extended survivorship, and this generally includes all people who have went through treatment and are trying to continue their lives afterward. Both phases of survivorship have different challenges that individuals must overcome.
When trying to survive cancer, there are often many lifestyle changes that a person has to make. For example, many people may need to give up certain poor habits. Others are generally required to change their diets or take certain supplements and medications. After having cancer, many people make a concerted effort to improve their overall health, and this can involve increasing the amount of exercise they get.
Another major challenge that many cancer survivors have is mental. For example, they may have a lot of fear about the disease recurring. These anxieties can make life very difficult for many cancer survivors. Sometimes people may worry that every sickness they get may have something to do with their cancer returning, and learning to deal with these fears is generally a big part of overcoming cancer.
A cancer survivor can often have lingering physical problems that can make life more difficult. For example, a lung cancer survivor may have difficulties with breathing that will never go away. Sometimes during cancer treatment, doctors are required to remove certain body parts or organs, and this can leave people with permanent challenges.
Some cancer survivors may have problems in their social or professional lives. They may worry about telling new people about their cancer because they fear it may lead to special treatment or being singled out. When people get cancer, it can also be a very stressful time for family and friends, and this can cause people to behave in inappropriate ways, which can lead to long-term difficulties in relationships.
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