I have been walking under a cloud the last few weeks, which only got greyer towards the back end of last week. Surprise! Just in case you were not aware…
I thank those of you for your kind messages and putting up with such open displays of self pity (on Friday particular thanks should have gone to the kind person who ensured there was some nice meat in my fridge; I am pretty sure I would not have eaten otherwise). There are several other people who should be equally thanked (probably those who have had to listen to me talk about my demise for example), but I just wanted to talk about meat. I am consciously trying to build up my red blood count after all.
I always thought that the Steroid Rage would come in the guise of intense anger, but it would appear, that for the moment and with me, it is finding its release via the path of self pity. Pity me please, I have cancer. Actually, don’t. Many other people have cancer too and even more people have awful things happen to them. I am sure that some of these people would have managed the last few weeks with more poise than I have and I find this somewhat embarrassing and unlike me. It’s not me. It’s the steroids. At least, I think it is the steroids. It is so frustrating that I do not know the cause of my emotions. Have I felt what I have felt because I am upset and frustrated by the ‘set back’ or does my ‘set back’ seem worse because my hormones are being poked by some over zealous drug? I don’t know the answer and I don’t think that anybody could give you an actual answer to my question. I need to learn that a lot of my questions, such as the one above, cannot be answered. I need to accept that this is acceptable.
Acceptance. I need to accept that it is what it is. This dawned on me this evening whilst Mamma Jones was driving me back to London from hibernation ready for tomorrow’s treatment. It is early days, well, we are four hours into the acceptance, and it may still be the steroids talking, but I need to accept that I cannot control everything. In truth, I do not have any control over the medicine, which is the thing that actually matters right now.
I do have the control over how I manage my current reality.
If I am sick from my treatment and cannot get out of bed, then that is the way it is. It is an awful situation to be in and I will continue to moan and groan about it, but I will have to manage it. If I stop responding to my trial, then that is an even worse situation to be in, but it is not a show stopper. I am not doomed and I should not act like I am. The end goal is getting better, whether that is getting better with PADIMAC or another form of treatment, my end goal is getting better. I have to accept that the ‘set back’, as Mr Pragmatic says, is just a hurdle. Obviously, I want to get better sooner rather than later, but getting better is the goal. Full stop.
I have had an epiphany, can you tell? I do not want to be defeated. I am not defeated. Good days and bad days remember? The bad days are still going to come in thick and fast, I am sure, and I am going to produce tears as a result and talk about how shit life is at times. I accept this. There will be good days too. I haven’t had a good one for a while, so if someone could throw me a bone, I would be much obliged. If not, I’ll wait. Life wouldn’t be so cruel as to make me wait for too long right? If I do have to wait, I’ll just blame the steroids again for my actions… You have been warned.
Oh, and the root of my epiphany? Much like My Myeloma in general, my epiphany is both ridiculous and random. Try as I might, I cannot connect the important message in the song to my situation, nor can I understand why this made me feel better or think all of the above, but it did. So, without further ado, it would appear that I had my epiphany whilst listening to Steve Miller’s ‘The Joker’.
Yet another true story.
Now, let us all hope for a good day or ten. Pretty please.