“You have cancer.”
The words ricochet around my head. It’s not possible. It’s not me. I can’t. What about everyone in my life?
I’m going to die.
Noone survives this. Not really. It’s no use trying. Yes, I want to start treatment tomorrow. No, I don’t want to see the chemo room.
No, I don’t want a cup of tea. The cake makes me want to throw up on the carpet. I shake my head at the glass of water. I never want to eat or drink ever again.
How am I going to drive home? Shouldn’t they just book me into hospital straight away?
I am overwhelmed, defiant, muddled, crazy, tearful, numb, in denial but sure I am doomed.
Terrified!
Fear takes over my body, and I cannot even find the exit. The chair catches my fall and I sink into it. Noone approaches me as I put my hands over my head and try to snatch back a modicum of control.
Breath in for four, out for six. Again. Again. Again.
‘Calm down,’ I tell myself over and over again.
I don’t know what will happen next, which way to turn, who to turn to for help.
‘Do you have any questions?’ The doctor asks.
‘No,’ is my first answer.
But I do and at the next appointment I ask the most important one. ‘Am I going to survive this?
‘I have every intention that you will,’ the earth angel in front of me says.
And then I know. I am not ready to die. I feel the rod of steel take shape in my heart. I clutch onto the lifeline offered to me, and decide then and there that I’ll live to a hundred years old.
It is still my intention and bubbly and chocolate cake will be there too.
I do not have any guarantees, of course. But I am on a mission. The Tunnel is long and challenging but there is a light at the end of it. I cobble together an approach to my healing and include everything that is offered to me and then some. Six glorious years later I am still committed to the journey. Life is a gift and I grab it with both hands, every single day. I do not dwell on my dance with the big C, but this morning I want to reach out to all of you coping with the dreaded diagnosis, and to say that step number one is to climb into the driver’s seat and push fear out. It is not a friend. Yes, it will keep climbing back in, and yes you will have to shove it out daily, at first. Do it and make room for all the things you do need on this journey.
There is a light at the end of your particular tunnel. Keep your eyes on it and remind loved ones to keep shining it when it is dim and far away.
Be selfish now. Don’t tolerate anything or anyone you don’t want to. Ban any negativity around you. I really mean that! Keep your energy for your healing. Switch off your phone at night, and at any other time you feel the need to.
Take one step at a time and try your best to stay in the NOW.
This is about YOU. People pleasing needs to be chucked out with the rubbish. Your life depends on it, it really does.
Accept all the help you want. Reject what you don’t, no matter what anyone else says.
Oh and find your secret, unexpected helper. Mine came in the form of a ginger tomcat called Archie …
I’m right behind you, cheering you on. Never doubt for a single second that you CAN do this!
Cat Therapy By Gail Gilbride
