Linda Cox69 said:My dear ones,
it seems this is the only place where I can truly let it all out, because every single one of you understands exactly how I feel...😢
Today isn't going particularly well. Mom headed out for her second round of chemo. She’s being so brave, never once complaining; she’s holding up well. Most likely, just like the rest of us... these crises simply swallow you whole, much like they have me today.
I feel so incredibly heavy-hearted. I’m sitting here at the office, when all I want to do is be curled up in bed at home with a mountain of tissues, the TV on, and nothing but Nordorbals to focus on...
I have no strength left to live. There isn't even a tiny shred of energy left inside me.
I spoke with Mom; she’s already in her room. They’ll start the therapy soon. It will probably just be pills again today, followed by chemo tomorrow.
I’m hoping she gets to come home early tomorrow, too.
I look at all these little emojis around me, but none of them could ever capture what I am actually feeling. This kind of pain, this endless sadness... it feels like I'm in a coma.😢🙂🙂🙂
I just want today and tomorrow to pass as quickly as possible. I want Mom to handle the chemo well. I hope she doesn't suffer through those pains like last time—she could barely endure them then...
I just keep crying and crying...
God help us all through this Calvary... Here is my little poem for the forum—maybe my tone of D will lift me up just a little...
Today's post is a total depression dump. Please forgive me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~for the rest of you—since nothing is helping me today...
Pusa
I'll check back in once I've pulled myself together...🙂
Others have already left words of support for you! I can only add that the fear we all carry, triggered by situations like this, is something that defies description and cannot truly be conveyed...
I’ve spoken to many people, wondering if they were braver than I am, but generally, the answer is always: "Those things happened last year, and even though we don't know the specifics, we still remember exactly which month and day everything unfolded!"
During most of my mother's chemo sessions, I spent my time frozen in front of my computer screen, unable to get any work done, alternating between sobbing, laughing hysterically, or trying to force a fake smile... All those days ended with me in physical tension while my mother grew frustrated, unable to understand why I was so preoccupied with it all. My father and brother understood me, though; they both say that on those specific days, they can only sit there and laugh, unable to do anything more or less than that.
During her last two rounds, I actually forgot she was even going to the hospital that day, because I buried myself under such a massive workload that I didn't have the headspace to think about what was happening or how it would go.
We can't change much on our own, and besides, our mothers are in good hands. Tears won't help them; they might actually make things worse. If we put in the effort, stay busy, find some personal joy in our day, and power through it just as strongly as they are powering through their treatment, then maybe we can actually be of help!
Hang in there, and don't let these thoughts break you!