I have a friend who was recently diagnosed with cancer.
They went in and operated on her, removed it, and she's working on recovering now. Because of the form of cancer she had, she hasn't had to do radiation or chemo. The cancer was in her thyroid. And now it's not.
Because she no longer HAS a thyroid.
She wrote about an experience she had soon after her surgery. A team of two women work in the hospital where my friend had her surgery. They volunteer their time to give massages and facials to cancer patients. My friend was the recipient of a free facial, hand massage, foot massage, face massage and make up application. When she left, she was sent away with a bag of healing gifts: yoga pants, tank top...
And she can go back whenever she feels a need. for free.
Isn't that amazing? That was my first thought. How amazing that there's people out there running facilities like that. And wonderful.
And then part of me -the spoiled, pouty child in me -rose up and felt the pang.
What about ME?
Things are my house are a mess right now -a mess in every rotten sense of the word. There's. STUFF. Everywhere. I work in the mornings. He works in the nights. We pass each other in the driveway as I come home and he heads out. When we DO have time to talk, it's about addiction and recovery.
We are working through so many emotions, so many old patterns.
Awareness is fairly SEEPING through every nook and cranny of This Old House.
I've become The World's Biggest Flake in forgetting to reply to emails or talk to the Booster Club about serving a luncheon at our class reunion this fall.
I forgot to invite a bunch of people to my son's birthday party last night.
I'm hurting others with my forgetfulness. I'm offending people.
Because THEY DON'T KNOW... they don't KNOW what's going on over here!
Cleaning my house takes every ounce of energy I have.
Everything feels HEAVY.
Can't someone just remove my thyroid and then let's be done with it? Can't the cut be in a visible place? Can't there be a team of two women who call ME and offer to rub my feet and hands and face and give me yoga pants?
This lights a fire under my arse, and has inspired me to start saving my pennies so I can make a difference to other women who need a lift when hard things hit them -hard things that aren't obvious, that don't leave scars or medical records.
But then I realized: what difference will it make if I don't KNOW WHO NEEDS IT?
Will there ever come a day where this is talked about? When shame will be stifled? When people will stop saying things like "one's life should be kept to one's self"? (and yes, I said that in my best Mockery Sarcasm voice. Mockery Sarcasm is my cynical persona).
I wish I had a point in this post. I wish I didn't sound like a spoiled brat. I've even started this post a few times and not published it because it made me sound Whiny Brat (my best PMS persona).
After I told my husband I was through investing in our marriage, I went to church and confessed to someone close to me that I'd had a hard week.
"But at least you don't have a tumor in your head, right?" they responded, referring to a trial someone else in our Stake was experiencing.
At least a tumor is tangible. At least people TALK about tumors. There's fund raisers and a congregation of prayers!
Is it because they didn't CHOOSE to have a tumor? But those who CHOOSE to have an addiction are somehow hushed up and herded out of sight? What about those of us who live with someone with an addiction?
We didn't CHOOSE it. And yet we're herded away? WHY is there even herding going ON?
It's ridiculous that we don't talk about this.
That's all I'm saying.
I'm Angry Pants today.
The best medication will be a donation, best taken with a tall glass of chocolate milk. You should donate to. Angry Pants commands: