I’ve just realised I have been quietly grieving the past 5 days. Self absorbed grief at the loss of a little of my carefreeness. And ironically it’s taken me 5 days to get through the 5 stages of loss and grief identified by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. I am quick like that. Stage 1, Denial. Denial at hearing last Wednesday that I have cancer again. Fuck that. Stage 2, Anger. That was Thursday although B would say that was Thursday through Sunday and all directed at him. Sorry angel, someone had to bear the brunt and you are my person. Mostly anger at having to hear the fear in Kate’s voice and see the fear in Jem’s eyes when I told them. Their world tilted for a moment and I knew I couldn’t say anything to right it. And that pissed me off. Stage 3, Bargaining. Or trying to regain control. Which for me quickly led to Stage 4, Depression, which was Saturday. My private control freak hell. By Sunday, stage 5, Acceptance. It is what it is. There is nothing I did or didn’t do. I am powerful, resilient and loved. And yes still so very grateful. Even if maybe a little less carefree.
So what does this mean? We don’t know yet. I thought I was 8 years cancer free but at a routine ultrasound last week, there it was. Bloody feisty bugger. And we threw everything at it. I even moved countries. Needle biopsy confirmed malignancy and tomorrow I will have a tissue biopsy to get a tighter fix on the severity of what we’re dealing with and meet with the cancer surgeon on thursday. So, now you all know too. And I will keep you posted. This reflecting aloud seems to stem the rage.