I am not going to apologize for my absence from writing like I usually do. I cannot write when I’m wading through trauma. I’m still doing so, but my anxiety is compelling me to express it. So here we are.
My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer last week. She found a lump on her breast in a self-exam and went to the doctor. They told her it is breast cancer and that they will have surgery in 18 months after she does chemo/radiation for that duration. I am currently waiting on her to call me so I can be at the appointment with her remotely. This is when, hopefully, we will find out more answers. The very beginning of a cancer diagnosis is very confusing and shocking. Trauma brain is really foggy and won’t convert memory into long term memory while our bodies are flooded with cortisol.
Now I’m switching from the role of 2 time survivor of ovarian cancer to a loved one of a person with breast cancer. It’s frustrating for me because I know exactly what is needed to prepare for treatment. I know what horrible, macabre conversations must be had. I know what to expect. But my mom and dad do not. They supported me through my cancer experience, but living it is quite different. We are all shifting roles. It’s weird and confusing and surreal. My mother has endured so, so much in her life. She taught me how to be strong even in moments when I’ve lost everything I had. She was a single mother. She moved away from her family and comfort to create a better life for us. I know she can do this. I need to take a step back and let my parents and grandmother process. It’s a lot. A lot, a lot. But I’ll be here ready for action steps when they get to that point.
Until then, I will be supportive and try not to tell people how they’re feeling (which is hard for empaths, yes?).
Still kind even though life is shit often,