The weekend
before my very first doctor appointment, my husband and I had a weekend getaway
to stay with close friends in Sydney – well, the Blue Mountains to be exact.
One morning we went to a lookout in the heart of the beautiful mountains. We
had to trek just a little bit to get down – lots of stairs! When we got to the
lookout the view was amazing!
Now to the
point of this story: I’m a little scared of heights. I remember going to the
edge, holding onto the railing for dear life and looking down. My stomach just
about dropped out, I felt an immediate flush and my heart was beating furiously
as I was shaking and trying to slow my breathing!
That
feeling right there, that rush of adrenalin as I faced a fear of mine, is
exactly how I would describe the feeling of my cancer diagnosis. Only it didn’t
go away.
The days
that followed those words “I’m sorry but it is breast cancer” were the worst of
my life so far. I was a zombie. A shell.
Physically
I was in shock. I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t drink. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t talk
to anyone for fear of breaking down. I was nauseous all the time.
Emotionally
I was broken. Stuck in my own head, without all the answers, I was coming up
with my own conclusions which were of course terrifying. I didn’t know if I was
going to survive. I didn’t know if I was going to be around for my kids’
future.
To my close
friends and family who called or saw me that week, I apologize for my strange
behaviour. I sobbed on the phone to friends, telling them my fears. If someone
asked me how I was, I was like a deer caught in headlights and all I could say
was “I have breast cancer”.
Total
shock.
Still, I
made the kids’ lunches. I did the school run every day. I made dinner for my
family. I bathed the kids and read them bedtime stories as per usual. I kissed
them goodnight and told them I loved them, looking forward to them going to
sleep finally so I could drop the act and go back to my state of despair.
Of course
my husband and family were strong for me. They swallowed their fears and always
put on a brave and positive face for me. They constantly reassured me even
though I didn’t believe them. They never let me see their worry or sadness.
I remember
one afternoon I received a phone call from a breast care nurse from the clinic.
She asked me how I was going and I broke down of course. And all I could muster
was a quiet and weak “I’m so scared”. She talked and talked to me about what I
was going through and I remember her telling me that once the shock subsided
and I had a plan of attack, I would get my inner warrior on and fight this with
all my might. I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t even picture it. No way. I was
done.
Social
media and scrapbooking which just a week earlier were my obsession, were no
longer on my mind. I couldn’t go on Facebook or Instagram and see people
getting on with their lives while mine had halted. I couldn’t watch any movies
or TV shows that were even remotely sad or had anything to do with sickness or
death (which was basically nothing). I couldn’t focus on reading.
Embarrassingly I started playing Solitaire on my phone to numb my mind.
I got
through it. I actually got through that terrible week. But I was nowhere near a
warrior.