Asking for Help
Updated: Dec 15, 2021
Today is day 7/10 of my hormone injections and I assure you that I’ve had enough of them now. I have to hide the sharps bin and everything to do with them so I can try and forget about it for a little while. It feels like a constant dread to the morning injection when I wake up and then the dread for the next one. Bruises are appearing now and the term ‘pin cushion’ feels valid.
So far Sam has been doing them for me and I have to do breathing exercises before to relax and then look away. This weekend became a dilemma as Sam is back to work after some time off and my mum is away too so who’s gonna stab me!? I didn’t realise until late last night but the thought of doing them myself just feels impossible. The feeling of failure rushes in. I’m losing my identity more and more everyday. I’m a nurse or was a nurse who gave injections every day and now I can barely look at them let alone inject myself!
Vulnerability is hard and admitting you’re struggling is even harder. Sam and I spent the last couple of days in London and as much as I enjoyed snippets of it, the dark cloud of panic, worry and sadness just won’t clear. Injecting in the morning, feeling bloated and uncomfortable from the drugs and just too damn tired to walk around all day. Ice skating didn’t happen at winter wonderland despite my determination, in case I fell and damaged my surgical wounds. It’s just sh**. My fight to remain happy and normal is dwindling away.
Throughout all the crap so far I’ve had so much support from family and friends offering to be there and support me. Accepting the help is another thing. I feel like a failure, an inconvenience to everyone else who’s getting on with their lives without the burden of cancer. Accepting some help is the right thing and today my best friend is going to stab me (she’s a nurse too)! It’s okay to show your raw feelings and not have the happy front on all the time. The brave face only lasts so long and that’s normal. Your family and friends will be there to pick up the pieces when you finally break down.
I’ve been asking myself this whole time at what point is this going to sink in and feel real. Apart from the time I hysterically cried when they told me the lump was 90% cancer I’ve held it together since even when they confirmed the diagnosis. I’m still doing normal things and initially said that surgery would make it real but it hasn’t! I’m 90% recovered after the op now and still doing normal things. I reckon once the chemo starts after Christmas that will be the moment I struggle to do normal things and to literally feel ‘normal’. Thats when it will sink in and I will look and feel like a ‘cancer patient’. You can’t fight all the time, sometimes it’s good to admit defeat and recharge.
Positive: As sh** as cancer is it really builds the bonds you have with your family and friends and makes them so much stronger. Having people you can rely on to ease the process makes such a difference. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. It does not make you weak or a failure. It shows strength and courage to put your pride to one side and allow your loved ones to help- they really do not mind!