Well this past week was one of the hardest of my entire life. To say I felt broken is the biggest understatement ever. The feeling of falling apart, of all the pieces of ‘me’, just blown away in the fear and terror was there all the time. I have never been good doing ‘helpless’. If a family member or friend was in trouble, or came to me with a problem, I was always there, trying to make it better, put it right. When I did my counsellor training, we did schema work and I discovered that I was a ‘rescuer’. Couldn’t bear to see others afraid, in pain, in trouble without wading in, sometimes wrongly, sometimes unwanted,but trying my best to make it right. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a do-gooder, I am not everyone’s answer to a prayer, my need to help ,comes from way back in childhood when no one was there for me when I so needed them. I have worked hard to be the person ‘I’ needed, at various times inmy life.So helpless is not something I do well if at all. And this past week I felt it in a huge way.
I had been convinced that the cancer I have talked about in the past 3 blogs, my husband having Prostate cancer, convinced that it had spread. These past 3 years, I have lost so much, we as a family have lost so much that another blow was, in my mind, expected. I would go over in my mind, how I would greet this devastating news. Would I be able to take it? Would I be strong enough to comfort my husband? Would I, as I have felt close to for the last few years, fall apart? I have been hanging on in here for a long time, pretending all was well when really, inside of me I was already broken, heartbroken, sad beyond measure and then this. So my fears around surviving the news on Friday,and being able to be strong for David was something I was beginning to doubt.
He has been with me, as I have said in earlier blogs, sat and held me when my world fell apart on numerous occasions. Held me in the night when the night terrors returned, sat with me in the day when I felt lost and lonely within myself. He never faltered, never complained and always always showed his love. When something nasty happened via ‘family’, he was the one who pointed out that none of it was down to me, reminded me of the ‘wicked’ that is within my birthright and made me feel a bit better. I have been psychologically bullied and bruised on social media and in ‘real life’ by those out to cause me pain, for more than 3 years, leaving me broken and very low. My only resolute, my only constant was my husband David. Now it is my turn, was my turn and I wasn’t sure I was able to be the strong person, he had fallen in love with, all those years ago.
All week I fluctuated between feeling nauseous, panic-stricken, terrified and yes, helpless. To okay, calm and ‘we can do this’, whatever ‘this’ was. On the first visit to see the consultant, after the biopsies, I watched the body language of the nurse and doctor. I hadn’t been aware of doing this at the time,but it has become a natural instinctive thing I do in my work, so it just kind of happens. That first visit, the nurse came and sat between my husband and I, on the bed behind us and then the consultant, leaned forward. That was when I knew. This is going to be bad news. It was. That was the first time we were told that it was real. My wonderful husband had cancer.
As I said last week, cancer is a dirty word. It can come into our lives in many ways. Sometimes in life something cancerous is evident. Not the disease, just something that is there, that contaminates everything it touches, like a bad apple in a fruit bowl. A criminal mind in authority. A trouble maker out to cause upset and pain, spreading their lies and hatred to other people. Sometimes a single person can do that, poison everyone within their circle and then spread their nasty into another person’s life, using lies and stories they know to be untrue, contaminating things others hold dear.I have met that kind of cancer, within my own family. Then there is the disease, the one everyone dreads. The cancer that I refuse to give a capital letter, the one my lovely man has . That is the cruelest.
So back to the results, we made our way to the hospital last Friday, last day of September,every single traffic light was red. The road works stopped us, then parking, well that is another issue all together. David was quiet but seemed calm, I was the duck on our pond, calm on the outside, paddling like mad to stay afloat under the water. Feeling sick, apprehensive and terrified, I held tightly onto my husband’s hand when they called us into the room. I tried to see any kind of clue on the consultant’s face but couldn’t. He asked us how we were. You have to be joking I thought. How do you think we are?? But I said nothing,still convinced that as the past 3 years showed, this was going to be bad.
‘Well’ said this man sat in the chair, looking at David and then at me, ‘Just tell us!’ I silently screamed, tell us and let us go home, back to the safety of our wonderful somewhat changed home. But I said nothing. ‘The good news is, it hasn’t spread outside of the capsule’. I remember thinking I had heard wrong. No relief at that point just shock of a good kind. ‘It hasn’t spread so our options are better’, he continued. I looked at David and saw nothing while I wanted to hug this medical man sat in front of us,and thank him. But did nothing. After explaining the options, he suddenly said that although he had just laid out the surgical approaches, because my husband is 71, they may not offer surgery. Talk about good news bad news all in one minute. I couldn’t quite take this in. I could feel David becoming angry, I was becoming angry but we both held it back. The consultant wasn’t sure about the age limit,so we were to go home and think through our options, then let him know and an appointment to see the surgeon would happen and he would make the decision. We left.
The journey home was okay, I felt elated that it hadn’t spread and felt calmer than before. The age thing to me, didn’t seem an issue, we just wouldn’t accept that because of his age, they wouldn’t operate. That can’t be right. Can it! I slept better after a cosy evening with my husband and my dogs, beginning to look and feel a better future.
Saturday morning it hit me. David has cancer. He needs to have surgery or treatment to cure him. Why did I feel better? How could I feel better? He has cancer. The dreaded c word. No if’s or but’s just facts. So yesterday was a confusing day emotionally. I wrote to a few people on Facebook, on a private site for survivors. They are supportive and the best people to talk to as they have been on this journey. All are so kind and so willing to share and to help.
I never considered being here, being in this position, I don’t suppose people do. Having to be the strong one in our partnership but here I am. Not willingly but determined not to let my husband down. I am already a survivor, not of an illness but of Childhood abuse and do a lot of work to help victims become survivors. I have to draw on this now with every ounce of strength, to be strong and be David’s rock as he has always been mine.
As wives and partners of men with Prostate Cancer, we are a necessary aid to survival and to recovery. We are the ones who need to be there for our man, to comfort him, to hold him and to love him. Reassure him that he is still the same person he was before the dreaded c word and to help him pull through. On a good day, I think I can do it, No, I know I can do it. Let’s hope, in the weeks and months ahead, the good days are more present that the bad.If other partners feel this way, I send my warmest love and thoughts, it ‘aint easy’ as they say.
Thank you for reading. Please comment if you feel you want to . x
carolannwright 
Reblogged this on carolannwright and commented:
A friend asked me to reblog, so here it is.x
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