Journey, pt. 2

Note: In continuation. I will try to get as far as I can. Again, this might be disjointed and a little messy. Please comment if you have any questions. You can find post 1 here.


There really was more to that night than just "opening up". Here I was, sitting in the car with one of the most important people in my life and I was bawling my eyes out. Breaths were more like desperate ragged gasps for air between random tangents related only to the fleeting feelings of that moment, nothing connected, and everything grasping.


All that kept surfacing again and again was how alone I was, and my fear that this could be the last ... everything. That the last time I loved and was loved, could be the last. I felt as though I was locked into a horrible dream where karma was the evil judge, and every past sin was laid before me and shouting "this is why"! I was a mess, and even after he left, I sat in the parking lot at work and cried. 


Once I felt my tears had dried enough, I began my drive home, and my phone calls. It was time to let everyone know. I had crossed the line now from my secret to my battle. 


***


I made conscious decisions based on many factors on who to call and when. I saved those who would be most fragile or had enough other things going on themselves for last.  My grandparents, brother, and best friend were all at the end of the list ...  I hated to think of causing them worry or raining on the joy and happiness in their own lives. To me, it really wasn't as important to create a support circle as it was to protect them. 


There were surprises among the calls, people who were full of information, people who had a million questions, people who were uncharacteristically supportive ... and a few others who had no idea what to say, and haven't tried since. I quickly became tired of the words "I'm sorry" ... as they felt almost like a cop-out, something to say when you don't want to say what you're really thinking. I also didn't want pity, I just wanted them to know.  Even from the beginning, it was never about how bad I could feel about what was happening, but what could I do to change it. 


The doctors and I began talking about what to do, how to fight, what tactics and measures to use. Surgery was always a given, but as I am a single mom, the timing was dependent on when I could actually afford to take time off of work, and still maintain our already fragile financial life. Thankfully, my employer is family-centric, and there is a paid vacation scheduled around the Thanksgiving holiday that would allow me enough time to heal without a huge impact on our checkbook. It was 9 weeks away when we scheduled. The question now was, what would we do between now and then?


Now keep in mind, I don't have insurance. I have no idea how I can pay for my medication, treatments, the surgery, and still keep our little family afloat. Thankfully, when I was discussing all of the options and choices with my cousin, she was wise enough to tell me that health can't wait, but medical bills can. 


I started to research. I heard this over and over again from friends and loved ones as I talked to them about what I would do. Clinical trials, hormone therapies, chemo ... so many foreign words to learn and things to make decisions about. I am usually a very decisive person, and I could not make up my mind. My process was more one of elimination based on comfort level than one based on actual facts, at least at first. This meant clinical trials were a no-go, and, well, chemo wasn't exactly ranking high either. Sure, its track record was amazing, but there was just something about losing my hair that sent me into a collapsed mess of tears every time. I opted for hormone-suppressants. 


At first, I was comfortable with my choice. I had already been having hot flashes, mood swings and night sweats. Only - those all now got worse, along with a couple of other side effects I hadn't bargained for.  About as fast as I started it, I decided I had made the wrong decision ... but of course, I had to wait to talk to the doctor.


***


... again, to be continued. Sorry!