Two weeks ago, at the end our meeting, after I had asked all my medical questions, I asked my oncologist if he wanted to know about my mood.
"I want to know everything," he answered.
So I mentioned that I was having a difficult time dealing emotionally with the "life-long" element of my disease.
He immediately scheduled another meeting for the following week.
"I'm scheduling you like a 'new patient' so that we will have the proper time to discuss this, which we don't have now." He explained. On our way out, he added: "Bring tissues."
For a week, I worried that I was going to break down crying in his office. Sometimes I thought that wouldn't be such a bad thing.
In the end, we had a very cerebral meeting about my emotional state.
I raised my issues.
He listened, responded, questioned, affirmed.
In the end, we all (him, Moshe & I) agreed that I am coping OK.
"Keep talking;" he advised Moshe and I, "this affects both of you. Open lines of communication are critical. Talking about the things you'd rather avoid will bring you closer."
In the end, I didn't cry at all.
I felt emotionally unsatisfied.
If everything was OK, what was I doing there?
"Well," answered the doctor, "last week, for the first time, you cried in my office."
"I did?" I questioned him and Moshe.
"You did," Moshe confirmed.
I didn't remember crying last week.
I wanted to cry this week. (but didn't)
And, now that we all know that I'm fine, who knows when I'll cry?
But, dammed if I don't feel like crying all the time these days!
I'm having a tough time dealing with the fact that, short of a miracle, I am going to have cancer for the rest of my life.
I know that my situation is good. I know that it could be a lot worse. I know that there are other people living with life-long, invisible illnesses.
It doesn't help. I hate having cancer.
I wish it would just go away!
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
A New Definition of Poor Taste
8 hours ago