Roger's not dancing much today. Chemo drugs toxic enough to kill his own bone marrow have sapped his appetite and his energy. It makes us anxious to know things will get worse before they get better. But there is some comfort in seeing the hospital staff behave in the same way day in and day out. They go about their jobs as if life were still normal; they are not alarmed.
How can we maintain a positive outlook and still be realistic about the effects of this stress on our lives?
My attention span is short and my short-term memory is shot. I feel lost and confused where a year ago I would have felt energized and challenged. I keep reliving those moments on the phone with Roger when he told me the leukemia had come back as if it were the moment of impact in a bad accident. I don't know if I'm hungry or tired or anxious or behaving strangely. I seem to be disconnected from my own body.
I expect that life after the transplant will never be the same. I have to be realistic about that. We will never again be carelessly optimistic. We will never again see ourselves as bullet-proof. But I have to believe it will be a good life, after all. That's why we're here.
I imagine life has not really been the same since you & Roger began this journey, Candi. You've both shown so much strength, grace, and optimism for so long. It's humbling to share some of the difficulty with you now. We're all here with you and for you. Sending thoughts of hope, faith and love your way.
ReplyDeleteCandi, it seems to me that some days are for optimism and some days are about hard, nitty gritty realities, and we--at our best--swing back and forth, giving voice to both. Here's to a new day tomorrow and hopefully a "swing" into a different perspective.
ReplyDeleteGrace and peace, Gretchen
Well said Gretchen...Mom, we are here for you both...through the good and the bad. Thank you for being so honest with your feelings, thoughts and emotions. We love you both so much!!
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