What is it that causes an empty shell? An empty shell: A person who is empty on the inside- their soul striped away by the constant beatings life can give. It is one of the most sad things to witness someone go from their "normal" lively self, to a hopeless empty shell. To watch someone become just a shadow of what they used to be...How do you get them back? I've watched very few loose themselves to this degree- which I am thankful it is only very few. The sense of hopelessness in the aura of these people is so thick and obviously devastating.
I have to say at one time I was an empty shell. Just moving through one day in order to go back to bed for the night. It is hard to break the cycle, but I did do it...eventually. Luckily, I had people who love me to point things out for me. I wasn't joking and smiling like I normally love to do. I noticed that I lost interest in dancing and working out- some of my very favorite activities, that would relieve stress and make me feel better. I eventually realized I had no social life, no outlet to let the pain release.
The root of an empty shell is devastation. I struggle with how to describe devastation... there are NO words to describe the feeling of devastation. It is only understood when experienced. Which... isn't that the catch with learning all great emotion? Devastation and tragedy can be tools to helping... no not helping, but rather FORCING the soul to grow. Usually people experience at least one great tragedy in their lifetime. But what about those of us who ALWAYS seem to be in a storm of tragedy? I have learned an immense amount about life over the years of battling cancer- but when does it end? How much devastation and tragedy can one take and still continue to learn from it. I have had nothing but bad news lately- and my past experiences are what help me cope with these current ones. So what am I learning now? I am not trying to be a "debbie downer" but at this moment I can't see the "lesson." There could very well be one, but I sure can't see or understand it with the way I feel...which is devastated and empty.
On Friday, I found out that my right hip joint-that has been hurting me and causing me to limp- has a tumor. This of course did not surprise me because usually where I have pain a tumor then pops up. Radiation is what usually helps my pain, but this time the doctors were hesitant to do that because of all the treatment I've had that has affected my bone marrow already. I've been radiated in my hips before and it caused a certain amount of fibrosis or scar tissue in my marrow. This causes me to have low blood counts that will be permanent. I felt like I had zero options. But I guess they(being the docs.) had a conference and decided they could do radiation but with a different technique. This technique involves giving me lower doses or less treatments to hopefully save my bone marrow but does not have as good affect on killing tumor...or something like that. I also have a risk of my hip breaking because A) the tumor is eating away at it and B) the radiation can make bones more brittle. If this break were to occur, I would need a hip replacement. Yeah...a 20 year old with a hip replacement ...I can see it now...NOT. Even if my hip were replaced it still brings about the problem of the bone marrow- because last time I checked, fake bones do not make marrow. The doctors can transfuse platelets and red blood cells which gives me a boost for about a week. Actually, Wednesday I spent 8hrs... not 2... not 3 but 8hrs being transfused- so you can see why I might not want that so often. But even worse than that, is they can not transfuse white blood cells so if my body were to stop making them- an infection of some kind would be inevitable...and I would have no defense against it.
Needless to say, I did not receive the slightest bit of good news the last couple of days...and trust me I was looking for it. My brain is fried, and most of all devastated. I'm doing a whole lot of staring into space. As I was having this crappy, horrible conversation with my doctors, I luckily had a hand full of carrots...yes carrots. I was vigorously chomping on them to distract myself- It was only when the carrots ran out, that I couldn't hold the tears back any longer. I was forced to focus on what my reality was.
Even in this moment of feeling like I'm back in my powerless, hopeless, empty shell, I know I still have a trick up my sleeve. I have been doing a lot of research on diet and holistic ways of fighting cancer. I have started a new diet and herbal regimen that yours truly put together:) I am continuing to research unconventional, and holistic methods. I have no idea what the out come will be, but I know that the path that I'm paving is exactly where I want to go...and I will fill my shell little by little along the way:)
and now a poem about those empty shells....
Those of us with empty shells
seem to feel deep hopelessness
Yet among the depths...
we realize the shell itself is deep
An empty depth, but we see an outline
emerge...
Only a once full shell could have
created the vast empty interior
Inside is molded by what used to be...
Which suggest there is still a mold to be filled
Take the empty interior, the outline,the mold
and use it to shape the filling...
The material of the filling my be unknown
but the shape is now visible
...a direction made
...a depth filled
With what? I'm not sure
But the deep has become more shallow...
leaving less hopelessness
Going from a shell to that which is reminiscent
of a human being
It may not be a happy ending, but
rather a true, unfolding new beginning...
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
PAIN
I'm feeling something that I have felt one thousand times before... Pain. The pain that no one else feels but me. A lonely pain. The cold, icy realization of tumor pain. I always know... I know before anyone else. It is an unmistakable pain. Every time it starts I tell myself "Just wait a few days, maybe you bumped it on something." But even saying that is a double edged sword because when I have that thought, I know I'm looking for a reason or excuse for the pain to be anything else then what I know it really is.
I know my body so well, and I have never been wrong when it comes to my pain. It seems it's one of those situations where you desperately wish you could be wrong. It is the only time I wish I was oblivious. But deep down I have that nagging knowing...The knowing that no one else is aware of. Because I haven't said it yet. When I tell someone, it suddenly makes it real. The longer I keep the pain to myself, the longer it is no one else's to bare. Every tumor is a burden... and I have many burdens. The more I keep this secret pain to myself, the less my family will feel it- at least temporarily.
When my life seems to be at a good constant- meaning I am not on radiation or treatment for a current painful tumor- I have a sense of brief peace. But when my break is over, it is the most heartbreaking, dreadful feeling to have that pain again. The very unmistakably specific pain. The pain of a cancerous tumor chewing away at my bones. I know, eventually I will have to tell my family and doctors( once again!!), but sometimes, I don't always feel sharing is caring... Meaning ,I hate to see the look on my moms face, my friends faces, my brother and sisters faces when I tell them of my new pain. Not only does it make it more real for me, but the sadness I see in so many faces gets overwhelming when you know you are the reason for their pain and sorrow. The second that I tell the first person- the pain spreads across my family aka my support system- much like the cancer in my body spreading from place to place, but instead from person to person.
I think it is only natural that i want to control it somewhere in the chain of events that unfold each time I have THAT pain. Which is why I usually decide to keep it to myself for the first couple days, in order to somehow slow the metastatic pain/sadness cycle. Although, sometimes I wonder whether or not, it gets numbing to others hearing about it, because it is not like this is "new" or anything. I have taken notice to the fact that people will react the way I do. For example, if I tell someone about my new pain and I am crying my eyes out- they tend to not take it so well either. But if I tell them in a "nonchalant",or "as a matter of fact" kind of way they tend to react accordingly. So this is why I try to be very unemotional with certain people when I talk about my new pain- it seems to make others feel better and /or take it better for some reason.
I struggle with wondering if it is even news anymore when a new pain pops up. I mean... I guess thats the idea of a progressive, malignant cancer. Hinted by the words "progressive" and "malignant." It continues to happen. With each tumor- one after the other- it was more and more devastating, crushing a little bit more of my hope each time. But it was as if I had reached a climax, and now because I've had more tumors than I can count- it is as simple as " Yep, that spots gonna have to be radiated." It gets to a point where you are no longer treating the cancer in terms of "This too shall pass" but rather learning to live with a disease that is not going to pass. It goes from "treating" the cancer to "managing" it. Honestly, I wouldn't have a problem managing my cancer- if it was actually somewhat manageable. I guess the bottom line is- even though I feel this way with little energy and all my reserves gone- I AM managing this disease and surviving it one day at a time.
I know my body so well, and I have never been wrong when it comes to my pain. It seems it's one of those situations where you desperately wish you could be wrong. It is the only time I wish I was oblivious. But deep down I have that nagging knowing...The knowing that no one else is aware of. Because I haven't said it yet. When I tell someone, it suddenly makes it real. The longer I keep the pain to myself, the longer it is no one else's to bare. Every tumor is a burden... and I have many burdens. The more I keep this secret pain to myself, the less my family will feel it- at least temporarily.
When my life seems to be at a good constant- meaning I am not on radiation or treatment for a current painful tumor- I have a sense of brief peace. But when my break is over, it is the most heartbreaking, dreadful feeling to have that pain again. The very unmistakably specific pain. The pain of a cancerous tumor chewing away at my bones. I know, eventually I will have to tell my family and doctors( once again!!), but sometimes, I don't always feel sharing is caring... Meaning ,I hate to see the look on my moms face, my friends faces, my brother and sisters faces when I tell them of my new pain. Not only does it make it more real for me, but the sadness I see in so many faces gets overwhelming when you know you are the reason for their pain and sorrow. The second that I tell the first person- the pain spreads across my family aka my support system- much like the cancer in my body spreading from place to place, but instead from person to person.
I think it is only natural that i want to control it somewhere in the chain of events that unfold each time I have THAT pain. Which is why I usually decide to keep it to myself for the first couple days, in order to somehow slow the metastatic pain/sadness cycle. Although, sometimes I wonder whether or not, it gets numbing to others hearing about it, because it is not like this is "new" or anything. I have taken notice to the fact that people will react the way I do. For example, if I tell someone about my new pain and I am crying my eyes out- they tend to not take it so well either. But if I tell them in a "nonchalant",or "as a matter of fact" kind of way they tend to react accordingly. So this is why I try to be very unemotional with certain people when I talk about my new pain- it seems to make others feel better and /or take it better for some reason.
I struggle with wondering if it is even news anymore when a new pain pops up. I mean... I guess thats the idea of a progressive, malignant cancer. Hinted by the words "progressive" and "malignant." It continues to happen. With each tumor- one after the other- it was more and more devastating, crushing a little bit more of my hope each time. But it was as if I had reached a climax, and now because I've had more tumors than I can count- it is as simple as " Yep, that spots gonna have to be radiated." It gets to a point where you are no longer treating the cancer in terms of "This too shall pass" but rather learning to live with a disease that is not going to pass. It goes from "treating" the cancer to "managing" it. Honestly, I wouldn't have a problem managing my cancer- if it was actually somewhat manageable. I guess the bottom line is- even though I feel this way with little energy and all my reserves gone- I AM managing this disease and surviving it one day at a time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)