Coping with it all
I've been sitting playing music on my psaltery. It's an open-string instrument
and well suited to slow sad tunes. The concertina is for happier days.
I still can't really wrap my mind around it all.
You think you have problems of one kind or another and you worry about work or
the garden or things that you want to do and can't.
It all sort of pales into significance.
It's my nephews that make it so tragic. I'd miss my bother or any of my other
sisters, but none of them have children so young. Rosalie is ten years younger
than I am. My youngest child is sixteen. Hers isn't even a year old.
My family would feel no less pain if they lost me, but at least we've had those
years together. I've been there when they learnt to walk, when they started
school, when they were ill. I was there when my eldest fell in love and needed
my support. I'm there when they need to talk to me. (Their dad is as well, I
hasten to add - but they have both of us)
I think I'll find it a little easier to cope with when I know more. The odds of
survival are better for younger sufferers, so at least she has that on her side.
What we don't yet know is how far advanced it is.
I can only sit and wait for news. It tends to be confused and contradictory as
second-hand information often is. The latest seems to be that there are two
tumours that are probably (but not 100% certain) cancerous. They hope to reduce
the size with chemo until they are small enough to operate on. She's still
having problems keeping food down.
I've told my bother-in-law that I'll help in any way I can. The only good thing
is that his parents live very close. He's got help close to hand with the
children and they know and like their grandparents.
I've told my sons, but only half the truth in Henry's case. I've told him his
aunt is ill, but not how ill. He has exams coming up. Once the exams are over,
I'll tell him the whole story. By then we should have a better idea of her
chances in any case.
Richard took me for a walk along the Stour. It helped a little. The Stour near
Wimborne (National Trust land) is one of the most beautiful places I know in
June. Saw banded demoiselle dragonflies. The males are a lot easier to spot,
but we saw a couple of females as well.
My voice has gone totally. It was rough from a couple of days ago when I was
working too close to a really loud PA system and either an infection or the
stress has finished it off totally. Just when I need most to talk to people, I
can't.
All e-mails/LJ postings are appreciated. I need to feel in touch with people
right now. I know three, maybe four, of you have been through similar
experiences recently, either suffering yourself or having partners or parents
with cancer.
If talking about it will help you, then it may well help me to listen. I need
to know what Rosalie may have ahead of her in the way of treatment,
side-effects, emotional upheavals. I can support her better, if I know what to
expect.
She's my youngest sister, one of twins. There are two of us older girls and the
twins. I love the twins equally, but when they were small, Carolyn and I used
to help look after one each. Rosalie was always the one I looked after.
Now all I have to do is persuade Richard to get a test for prostate cancer.
He'll object as he hates going to the doctor, but he's in the age where it
begins to be a risk, I'm worried all round and would rather have peace of mind
in his case. His father died of prostate cancer three years ago...
Added later - I've asked him and he says he'll do it -- tomorrow... I know
Richard, he'll put it off and off. My voice is too bad for me to phone and make
him an appointment.
Why are men so terrified of doctors?
and well suited to slow sad tunes. The concertina is for happier days.
I still can't really wrap my mind around it all.
You think you have problems of one kind or another and you worry about work or
the garden or things that you want to do and can't.
It all sort of pales into significance.
It's my nephews that make it so tragic. I'd miss my bother or any of my other
sisters, but none of them have children so young. Rosalie is ten years younger
than I am. My youngest child is sixteen. Hers isn't even a year old.
My family would feel no less pain if they lost me, but at least we've had those
years together. I've been there when they learnt to walk, when they started
school, when they were ill. I was there when my eldest fell in love and needed
my support. I'm there when they need to talk to me. (Their dad is as well, I
hasten to add - but they have both of us)
I think I'll find it a little easier to cope with when I know more. The odds of
survival are better for younger sufferers, so at least she has that on her side.
What we don't yet know is how far advanced it is.
I can only sit and wait for news. It tends to be confused and contradictory as
second-hand information often is. The latest seems to be that there are two
tumours that are probably (but not 100% certain) cancerous. They hope to reduce
the size with chemo until they are small enough to operate on. She's still
having problems keeping food down.
I've told my bother-in-law that I'll help in any way I can. The only good thing
is that his parents live very close. He's got help close to hand with the
children and they know and like their grandparents.
I've told my sons, but only half the truth in Henry's case. I've told him his
aunt is ill, but not how ill. He has exams coming up. Once the exams are over,
I'll tell him the whole story. By then we should have a better idea of her
chances in any case.
Richard took me for a walk along the Stour. It helped a little. The Stour near
Wimborne (National Trust land) is one of the most beautiful places I know in
June. Saw banded demoiselle dragonflies. The males are a lot easier to spot,
but we saw a couple of females as well.
My voice has gone totally. It was rough from a couple of days ago when I was
working too close to a really loud PA system and either an infection or the
stress has finished it off totally. Just when I need most to talk to people, I
can't.
All e-mails/LJ postings are appreciated. I need to feel in touch with people
right now. I know three, maybe four, of you have been through similar
experiences recently, either suffering yourself or having partners or parents
with cancer.
If talking about it will help you, then it may well help me to listen. I need
to know what Rosalie may have ahead of her in the way of treatment,
side-effects, emotional upheavals. I can support her better, if I know what to
expect.
She's my youngest sister, one of twins. There are two of us older girls and the
twins. I love the twins equally, but when they were small, Carolyn and I used
to help look after one each. Rosalie was always the one I looked after.
Now all I have to do is persuade Richard to get a test for prostate cancer.
He'll object as he hates going to the doctor, but he's in the age where it
begins to be a risk, I'm worried all round and would rather have peace of mind
in his case. His father died of prostate cancer three years ago...
Added later - I've asked him and he says he'll do it -- tomorrow... I know
Richard, he'll put it off and off. My voice is too bad for me to phone and make
him an appointment.
Why are men so terrified of doctors?

no subject
It's too early to know yet what type of treatment Rosalie will be offered, but I do have some suggestions for dealing with the really extreme form of chemotherapies. I'll phone today. One word of warning - because chemo has improved so much in the last ten years, many patients now have fairly mild side-effects. They often don't realise that *other* people may be on much harsher regimes, and can say some very unhelpful/hurtful things about how easy chemo is nowadays. My mother had to deal with this - some people simply did not understand how ill she was from the side-effects, and it was actually worse with a couple of people who had experience of mild chemotherapy.
no subject
I don't know what the courses of treatment are for ovarian cancer specifically. There's bound to be lots of information online, but reading that stuff can often make things look more dire than they really are in any individual's particular case, so it might be better to wait and see what your sister's doctor says first. It always comes down to the patient and his/her doctor in the end.
It tends to be confused and contradictory as second-hand information often is.
I also empathize with you on the confused, contradictory, and *not knowing* part. There was a lot of that about when I had my surgery, and information was trying to flow among the surgeon, my parents, Douglas, and Greg.
I hope Richard follows through on getting checked out, too. And I hope your voice returns soon!
*hugs*
no subject
And it may not be all doom and gloom: it may be quite treatable, it may go into remission. My Aunt had breast cancer, they operated, and that was it. But she'd always been a fairly fit person, I think. And my mum had leukemia, but it's been in remission for years. (They figure she got it after they went into eastern Europe not long after Chernobyl.)
As for Richard, hand him the phone and stand over him. 8-P
I'd ring you, but since your voice is gone, I'll class it as a Bad Idea.
{{{{{{{{{{{hug}}}}}}}}}}
no subject
I had a quick skim through the NIH.gov website. It was actually not as bad as I'd expected - treatments for ovarian have clearly improved a lot in the last few years, even for Stage 4 cases. But it's not something to look through until there's more hard information on Rosalie's specific situation - it just varies too much depending on the case. Once you know exactly what you're dealing with, NIH is a good place to go to get an overview of what treatments are available and their pros and cons.
no subject
http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/wyntk/ovary/page12