Blogs - Page 269

Hello everyone. I am new on this website and not sure what I want to write. I think I want to scream, but then I think why do I want to do that? then I say, my dad has cancer. He is 90 but it makes it no easier to say he has had a good life, or he is ready to die since my mum died 8 years ago. Yes he wanted to go then with her, but he is still my dad and I do love him, and I know he is in pain, I can see it, I can hear it, but it makes it no easier to say He will die soon. I dont even know if this is the correct place to say all this. But I just started writing and it is all coming out.

Hi, Well diagnosed with brain tumor last October 2009. Anaplastic astrocytoma grade 3. Not a good prognosis. But have now completed the radiation/chemo therapy and into the 2nd phase chemo therapy. A recent MRI shows the treatemnt has had some effect but who know what the future holds.

Hi Well - a little late perhaps but I have left a msg with my oncologist's secretary asking that he contact me today regarding the pain I have been experiencing in my shoulder. Just making this call was difficult enough. I felt the now familiar rush of fear ....the racing heart and the sweaty palms. And that horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I will never get used to this feeling. And I haven't even spoken to him yet or had a test. I despise everything to do with 'Cancer' and what it does to me. Willow

“Illness is the night side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place” Susan Sontag, “Illness as Metaphor"

My husband told me to get the 22 and shoot the eagle flying overhead because it would help me make the fruit salad that much easier! It is so hard to listen to these conversations. My whole family is on the other side of Australia at a family wedding and I am here alone again with my rapidly deteriorating husband. This is really hard - I know not as hard as he is having it but it really hurts to see such a strong man needing me to shower him and assist in his bodily functions. Just needed to get it off my mind.

I am not living. I am existing. Living means that something is alive, something is growing, in my case the only thing growing is my waist-line. I don't feel alive, obviously I am because I am breathing, I exist, but I am not alive. To be alive means there is joy and passion, lightness, energy, anticipation and happiness. I want to feel alive. I don't remember how to. I have existed for the last 14 months, sometimes I have lived, there have been moments of freedom from the overwhelming sense of sadness and insecurity that cancer brought to our lives.