nosocomephobia

I've been quiet recently, getting on with my life, working hard in fact.  I've stepped up the teaching hours considerably and getting tired.  However, it's good to meet new people, feel useful and meet people who don't know about my history, like a fresh start.  I'm starting to feel myself and my energy levels are much better, although I do feel more tired much more quickly.  I've sort of got used to the drug side effects, they are part of my life now.  Friends ask me how I am and I say 'fine'.  Which is pretty much true.

However, the past casts its shadow.  I still haven't been to hospital for my MRI regarding my headaches but the headaches have stopped now, although the wooshing sound is ever present.  I can't bring myself to put myself through that horrible test again (it was the one that really freaked me out, sometimes it's better not to know what's in store!).  I still haven't made an appointment to see my oncologist, which I should have done in October (and here's the end of October).  I haven't made an appointment for the pre appointment blood test.  I thought I'd be looking forward to seeing her but I haven't made the appointment.  I have pervaricated and I wasn't sure why but I think I know why deep down.  I am frightened.

 


I am frightened of stepping inside a hospital and smelling the smell, feeling the memories, feeling ill, feeling pain, getting bad news.

I'm frightened that they'll find something bad inside and I'll be back to where I was, or worse.

I'm frightened that I'll have to stop Tamoxifen and take another drug which will have even worse side effects because they'll find from my blood test that I now have the menopause.

I'm frightened of getting those tests and the needles.  See I thought the needle phobia would go away after such an intensive spate of needle-related tests last year, I thought I'd feel better about the needles but I've just gone back to how I was feeling about them before.

I'm frightened of having the 'reconstruction' although I want it but I don't want to go through all the tests, needles, pain and anathesia.  And I'm frightened they'll say no you can't have a reconstruction and I'll be stuck like this forever with my ugly, misshapen, child 'breasts'.

And I'm still angry that my breasts have gone, by the way.  That has not gone away.

I feel like I'm approaching a bad place right now and it may go downhill.  I've started neglecting myself again.  I feel in between a rock and a hard place.

I know the answer - make that appointment, go, face up to whatever there is to face up to.  But I'm frightened.  I know I don't really have nosocomephobia, I've just been through a hard time and want to forget it, but I do know that I can't forget it, it's time to remember, take a deep breath and plunge back into the medical world again.

It felt good to write that down.

Show you care

It's hard being the friend or family of someone who has cancer, is going through treatment, has gone through treatment but still needs support.  It's hard because you want to do something, you don't want to see someone you love going through a hard time and a lot of the time, people just don't know what to do for the best, or what to say.  Often you might feel really helpless, frightened to intrude or scared to do the wrong thing.  Sometimes the person suffering doesn't even know what might help them too.

Everyone is different.  One person's help might be another person's hell and that's why it's hard to judge the situation and nobody wants to intrude.  And that's why some people might just end up doing nothing.

Personally, I think that's the worst thing - nothing.  Believe me, if you do something, no matter what it is, whatever you do will be appreciated.  I felt uncomfortable with those people who did or said nothing, who mentioned cancer not once (even if they knew), who seemed to shy away.  It made me feel that they did not care about me, which might have been totally wrong, but that's what it felt like.

I always felt a bit crap if I knew someone had had a death in the family.  I never knew what to say or how to say it and often said nothing and felt really bad afterwards.  Then, after becoming addicted to NYPD Blue (I have boxed sets), I found a phrase that I could use, the one that the Detective Andy Sipowicz (my favourite character) always used when facing bereaved relatives.  "I'm sorry for your loss".  It's neutral and opens the door if someone wants to talk and at least it shows you know and acknowledge the pain that the bereaved person might be going through.  So I make sure I say something.  All the books I've read on this subject report that saying something is always better than saying nothing.  Finding a good French translation is tricky and I'm not there yet, but I'll find a good French phrase one of these days.

I guess the cancer equivilant phrase might be "I was sorry to hear you were/are ill".  Believe me, this phrase WILL help and make the patient feel ok and be touched by your concern and again it opens the door for them to share more details if they wish, or to not open up but just to have a nice feeling that someone cares.

Now, going on to another way of showing you care - the - as they call it in the US - care package.  A mixture of thoughtful items that show you care and that will be useful or a luxury or just a really nice thing to receive.  Perfect if you are far away from someone.

For my Birthday, I received a big package from my niece in UK which arrived today and I thought, as well as it being a fabulous and thoughtful Birthday present, it would be THE perfect care package.  It contained a few chick lit don't have to concentrate too hard paperbacks, beautiful nail varnish, a cute carrying case and tin of tinted Vaseline, a selection box (I know, Christmas, already?) with sweeties and chocolate bars that reminded me of my childhood, a box with the softest socks in the world, foot cream and foot soak crystals and a lovely, touching letter on pretty paper.  I'm in heaven!  Every single item was thoughtfully selected just for me.  That makes the difference.

Amongst the care boxes that I was lucky enough to receive when I was going through treatment, there were cupcakes, English hard to get food products, loads of stuff from M&S (a rarity), Turkish Delight, walnut whips, loads and loads of paperbacks, smelly stuff for face and body, notepads,  Bio Oil for scarring, facial water spray, chocolates and chocolates and chocolates, newspapers, magazines, shampoo, shower gel, a personalised blanket, little charms, cinema tickets, a voucher for a facial and a silver heart.  And I'm sure I've forgotten something, it was all a bit of a daze to be honest but all was appreciated so very very much.

When my friend went into hospital for her mastectomy I gave her a hospital box containing tissues, trashy magazines, chocolate, lip balm, shower gel miniatures and a facial spritzer.  My reasoning was 1. you're probably going to cry at some point (tissues), 2. you'll have lots of time and not much concentration (magazines) 3. you'll probably have a bad taste in your mouth after the op or after the hospital food (chocolates, mints) 4. it's very dry in a hospital (lip balm and spritzer) 5. hospitals smell horrible (fragrant shower gels).  I think it had some Bio Oil for the scars too, I can't remember but that is a very useful thing.

I'm not saying for a minute that presents make up for other stuff like support, phone calls, texts, letters,  emails, cakes, home baked food, doing the ironing or cleaning for someone, taking them to appointments.  Don't get me wrong, just, if you wanted to send something if you're not able to be there for someone,  there is something you can do to show that you are thinking of them.

Anyway, I hope this post has given you food for thought and helped you do or say something to someone who will really appreciate it.  A little kindness goes a long way, it really does.

And thanks again to my thoughtful niece.  Love you babe!