24 November 2012
During my initial 3 days for the Massage For People Living With Cancer (MFPLWC) course I learnt more about the people I deal with. By that I mean that I was aware of some of what was going on with them but not everything. After all, we chat each time we see each other and we have a very good giggle when we’re together but I suppose we never really talk about anything of much serious consequence. Now it’s not my place to share their stories with you but suffice it to say that I’m very proud of them and I’m in awe of what they have dealt with.
That weekend wasn’t the best for me. There were many things happening both at work and at home including waiting for news regarding my Mother-in-law and keeping my fingers crossed for a new job. By the time I got home on saturday night, Colin (my partner) had lost his job, I was unsuccessful in my hope of a new one, my big brother had had an accident and was blind and we still didn’t have any test results back for my Mother-in-law but she was out of hospital.
The Sunday came and went and I got so much out of working with the clients who were kind enough to share their time and cancer stories with us. I didn’t realise it then but that experience would come to benefit me quicker than I had imagined.
As the following week progressed, things seemed to go from bad to worse. We finally received my mother-in-law's test results on the Wednesday and it turned out that she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. This news on top of Colin losing his job sent him into a bit of a depression cycle and there didn’t seem to be any way of “perking” him up at all. His world was ending as far as he was concerned. His mum was whipped into hospital within a few days to have a full hysterectomy. I’ve never seen Colin or his father - both typical British stiff upper-lip types - so lost. They had so many questions about what was happening and what comes next but neither of them actually wanted to know any of the answers. I had some of the answers (thanks to MFPLWC) but nobody to hear them! Talk about practicing patience!!
My mother-in-law did the typical parent thing. Put on a brave face and don’t tell the “kids” (kids! Erm, not really when we’re in our 30’s and 40’s, surely?!) how worried you are.
My in-laws haven’t been apart since they became a couple - almost 45 years ago - so to see my father-in-law at home, alone, worrying about his wife with no way to help him, really threw the rest of us.
From April through to October was a very steady cycle of chemo, blood tests, injections (the doctor’s suspected she had a blood clot so we were giving her daily heparin injections - that didn’t go down well with my mother-in-law!) and hair loss.
My mother-in-law has a wicked sense of humour and, even though she didn’t want to know what was going to happen, she and I actually managed to talk a bit about what she was going through. I was the only one she would take her wig off for. What odd shaped heads we have when there’s no hair on them!
Talk about a long process. Everything seemed to be put on hold for most of us and weeks just became a constant of, “when is the next chemo?”, “are you having your fruit smoothies?”, “do you need more shopping brought in?”, “are you using the cold cap this time?”, “do you want some company?” etc etc so that we could organise ourselves and give ourselves the impression that what we were doing could “help” in some way.
Come chemo session number 5 of 6, my mother-in-law was converted to Reflexology (not bad for someone who would normally have been in tears at the mere thought of having her feet touched) and was beginning to ask questions about the MFPLWC course. I was only too happy to speak with her about it and over a good old cup of tea and a couple of choccie biscuits I was able to outline the work that we were taken through in March and the IRIS programme.
At the end of October we were given the news. My mother-in-law had had her last lot of chemo, been back for a scan and the results were in. These results showed that she was clear. The hospital was happy to say that she was cancer free. As much as that was a huge relief to hear, it did leave me feeling kind of flat. As if after everything we’d gone through, that was it. The end. See you again in 6 months for a check but go get on with your life for now. So blunt.
My brother’s blindness was temporary. It came back once more and, thankfully, has gone again. Apparently yet another side effect of his diabetes.
Colin has now got a job and has seen his self esteem and self confidence take such a boost.
I’m still job hunting and seem to still be “striving” with most of the daily challenges that this year has brought.
On the plus side, I think, on a lot of the things that we’ve faced, I can say we’re arriving. Well, almost!
Arriving ... Almost! • Opuss № I