I haven't had much stamina for writing or sometimes even thinking this past week, there is something that I need to write now.
It was how wrong I was. You see, when you go to a 'Cancer Doctor', amid the various forms that you fill in that list all of your ailments, you also fill out some forms on your mental and psychological state. These questions help the doctors and social workers determine if you will need social services or extra help. And, one of the questions asked "Do you have someone to support you when you are ill?". This question was about number 7 of 20 and all the other questions were easy to answer. But not this one.
This one dropped a lead boot in my gut. And, so I skipped it. And, then when I went back to it. I pondered it. And, then left it blank.
I knew that my hubby would be there to drive me to and from appointments, and if he wasn't able to, then I could get someone else to. But 'support me?". Well, that's a tricky one. I've been doing the support in my relationship for some time now (see previous blog post - ), and my nickname is the 'rock'. Sometimes I feel like I am a rock on quicksand, and I hate that label, but it was given to me because when others can no longer cope and need to walk away, I'll always take up the slack.
It's not that I can't ask people to do something for me, I'm great at that. But if they can't - well, it usually means I'll think long and hard about asking for anything again, ever. No matter how unreasonable my request or how reasonable their reason not to do me the favour. It's a longstanding flaw - I hate needing anyone and I hate hearing "No". So, I avoid both at all costs.
The week before surgery, friends were trying to support me and I was trying to accept that support. But from the first time I awoke to find my old neighbour (a nurse at the Hospital) holding my hand, I've felt support. I could write a lot of names down now.
My husband - who just sat at the hospital so I could sleep. Who swept all the gifts and flowers out of the incredibly tiny room when we all realized, that Lisa truly is claustrophobic and then stayed (maybe to make sure I didn't make good on my prison break promise though!).
My sisters - who cleaned my house and corralled my kids, who brought books, scarves and told me that it was going to be fine, and who made sure I had the quickest delivery of the prettiest of flowers.
My dad - who came to the hospital to just sit. To just be there with me.
My daughters - the oldest who tried to step up into the "Mom" role and my little one, who kept those beautiful brown eyes steady when she first saw me at the hospital and said "Aw sweetie".... words straight from my Mother's spirit through my daughter's lips.
My friends - barn friends who sent flowers, food, drove the rider to the barn. Work friends who sent quilts and flowers and notes of concern. Dear friends who just want to ask if there was anything they could to help. Facebook friends, some of whom are old friends, dear friends that I use FB to connect with, and some are truly online 'friends'. But, when I decided that I should let people see the scary incision in advance so that maybe there would be less shock, fewer tears, in person, my FB friends sent encouraging note after encouraging note.
I promise I do have a funny story or two to tell about my hospital stay - but for now, I just want to let you know that I appreciate you all.