Living with cancer by David In Ireland (best books for 7th graders txt) 📖

when I die. I am worried about my wife when I die. I have been so selfish in my thinking, I must not think of me, my cancer, I must think of my wife and two girls. The need me, I must fight this cancer. .. .. Today I was thinking of my Mum. It is hard to think of her without bringing up thoughts of her suffering from the chemo. I am not sure if I want to go through it. I remember so well how she looked, how sick she was, how her skin turned white, then grey, her hair falling out. Then I remembered the sores in her mouth, the pain she was in. Her groans from pain. What am I doing even thinking of taking chemo therapy. It will poison me to the point of almost death, to try and prevent my cancer spreading. The day my Mum died I swore I would never take chemo therapy. .. .. I want to live, but I want a quality to my life, if I am going to die from cancer then I want to die with some peace, not the tortured image of my Mum that I still hold to this day.

Second morning with cancer. A meeting in the hospital with my surgeon, his team, then a quick run through some practical steps with the cancer nurse. We were both more together than I thought we would be. We were able to ask some questions and we got the answers. As we had allowed for a whole day in the hospital but the reality was only 2 hours, we were able to be together and discuss the practical things.

Crazy, surreal, out-of-body experience. A million thoughts in mere seconds. Darting ideas, flashes of inspiration.

Some time ago I started to believe in some ideas that were inspired as a result of reading some personal development books. I believe in the power of positive speech, positive mind control. I believe in the need to accept people for who and what they are. I do not agree with dwelling on the negative. I do not agree with speaking negative words.

Its not a religious thing. I simply believe that we are capable of controlling our own happiness. This belief structure is something I have believed in for about a year and I think it will be to my benefit in the challenge that lies ahead of me.

My sister sent me a lovely letter, then an amazing e-mail which outlined the stages of emotion that myself and my wife will go through. I will see if I can remember them, 1)grieving 2)denial 3)anger 4) bargaining 5)depression 6)acceptance. Knowing this will help us to know where we are but more importantly it will explain some of the emotions we will go through because it can be confusing.

I know I am not dealing with it well. I know I am expected to be phoning my friends and family, or at the very least I should let them phone me. But I can’t bear the idea of talking to anyone about this. It is too fresh. I need time to get it straight in my head. I do not want to hear anyone crying because of me. I have always been a ‘side of stage’ type of person, I have no interest in the spotlight being on me.

When I was a child I clearly remember when someone got a cancer diagnosis their friends and family would appear at their house. Why? Is it not bad enough having to deal with it yourself without having to share it with everyone you know? For me, cancer is a private and personal challenge that I have to face, nobody can help me, nobody can make it any easier for me. I just want to be left alone.

Waking on the 3rd and 4th morning with cancer. A nice couple of days were planned with the family, but the hospital called to say they had a bed for me. So I was admitted for my second operation to remove all touching tissue/muscle to the lump site. I was told to ‘present’ myself to a ward in Tallaght Hospital by 7pm. I made it just in time. We had to get our girls minded by my wife’s parents. My wife drove me there, stayed with me while I filled in various admission forms. She helped me to fill my bedside locker with my bits and pieces. I was put on a ward with 4 beds. Met the nurses. Had various people come and look at my leg. Then it was time for my wife to go home. I walked her out of the hospital said my goodbyes went back to the ward, got into bed, took a sleeping tablet, slept until 6am. As it was the weekend, no work would have been done on my leg so I was allowed to go home for the day. I went home until 7pm. That night a new patient was moved in to the bed next to mine. He is a very young 61 year old, by which I mean he looks 50 at a push. We are both in for surgery due to cancer. So we chatted, told each other our stories to date, we had been diagnosed within a day of each other, so it was all very fresh in our minds. It was great chatting with him for the evening after the visitors had left. His name is Paddy and I think he will become a friend after cancer.

Waking on the 5th morning with cancer. Awoken early to prepare for operation. I hate being in hospital in the mornings when you are not allowed to eat. The smell of toast, mmmmmmmm. The day dragged on, I was to be operated on at 9am, then possibly 10 or 11, at 12 I was brought off to pre-op, I was the only one there. There must have been room for 20 surgery beds, but it was just me, lying there in my operating gown, with a nurse to keep me company, chatting about everything other than cancer and operations. finally at 2.30 I was rolled into the little room to be knocked out. I was so happy to be finally getting into the theatre that I was all smiles with everyone. Then I was given the injection and a mask put on my face, asked to count down from 10 to 0 but I was told I would not make it past 5, so I started at 5 and said “4,3,2,1, Ha Ha I made it to zeeeerrrrooo” zzzzzzzz ……… …….. hours later I was brought back to the waking life in post-op. I was in no pain. I gently moved my left hand down towards my leg. I could not feel anything. My first thought was that I had lost my leg. I tried to lift my head but it was too heavy. I moved my hand up towards my stomach to a point where I could feel, then I moved it down towards the leg until I could feel nothing. The nurse grabbed my hand and told me to stop moving my hand onto my leg. So I pulled the mask off my face enougth to speak “du I zill av mii lefd eg?” She looked confused, so I tried again “doooo IIIIII stilllll have my left leeeeeg?” She smiled and said “you still have both legs”. From that moment on I completely relaxed. The modern use of painkillers is amazing. I was given a morphine control switch to use every time I felt I needed it, truly wonderful use of modern technology. My wife came in to visit me at some stage, time was not a feature in that day. When I saw her face, looking so worried, so sad, I just wanted to hug her and tell her everything was going to be alright. But the morphine would blank my memory in a few minutes and I would forget that I had seen her, so I would try and reassure here again, and again and again. Through the night I was in pain, masked by morphine, I was alert, under 15 minute checks from nurses, so I got to talk my way through most of the night. I did not sleep a wink. When the early morning light came into the sky I asked the nurses to remove the morphine drip. I felt much better, had some tea and toast, chatted with Paddy. I was very aware of the fact that he was going for his operation that morning so I did not want to say anything that might freak him out. .. .. As the morphine ran out of my system the nurses started to give me other painkillers. My leg had the strangest sensation. There were pains in parts of it but most of it I could feel nothing, it was so strange to touch a part of your body and it not recognised being touched. This was due to the fact that I had a lot of nerve end damage done to the surface of my leg.

As the day went on I was concentrating on my leg. The pain, the feelings. I decided to get up and walk as quickly as possible, I thought I would make use of the additional painkillers still in my system. So I asked the nurses and they said “no way!”. So when my surgeon came in to see me I ask him and he said “if you feel up to it” so up I got. .. .. The first few steps were a bit shaky but once I got my balance right, I was able to walk, slowly, but walk. The best bit for me was that I was able to move slowly and not limp. During the day my physio therapist came to see me and took me for a walk. She helped me learn how to get back to normal and with as little limp as possible. She trained me on stairs, up and down, up and down. I was slow, there was always a queue behind me on the stairs. .. ..

Morning of the 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th awoken in hospital. The general recovery after an operation went on, building up some strength in the muscles that where reduced, physio, tests, bone scan, MRI, CT scan. Each day had some level of work done to me, with me, for me. .. .. Paddy had his operation, but was not as quick to recover as me. His operation was on his intestine which causes completely different problems. We chatted a lot, when he was awake, but he slept a lot. Once he got out of bed for the first time he began his recovery. He was very slow to eat. He seemed to have a mental block about taking food. Our recoveries were very different.

I have been trying to get Paddy to eat, so far he as only pushed ice cream and jelly around the bowl in small circles but he has not managed to actually eat it. I keep telling him he needs to kick start his body with food. “Paddy, it is the first real sign of recovery when you eat food” I shout at him, I am not angry, he has a slight hearing problem. “ok, I will try”, so he picks up the spoon and slides in the smallest piece of jelly I have ever seen. He tasted it for a moment and then dipped his spoon in again for more. He did not eat much but it is a start.

Each day I ask can I go home. I know the time is getting nearer, I am