Tuesday, 21 February 2012

Inhale love, expel hate

And this is about how I am getting better.

to be in pain all the time, I have realised that this is happening for two months. I have been ill for two months. I have never been ill like this before. To be in low level pain all the time, to be dragging around your own body, to be tired, to be delicate. This is unusual for me. I have never thought of myself as poarticularyly hardy; but I suppose that when I wasn't drinking every day and poisoning myself with my own lifestyle, I was climbing hills and living outside and doing active things and being, actually, pretty tough.

My world has shrunk to my illness, I am not able to think around something so big, I don't care about anything else.

Yesterday was my birthday, I am 32 years old. I am waiting to find out if I have cancer.

And I feel sad that I can't write all the beautiful, elegant sentences about pain and limbo that form in my mind and then fly away.

I want to tell you how it feels to lose yourself, piece by piece, in a flood of screaming nerve endings that break you into small bits and parts of you float away, like your love of colour or ability to jump and you think you'll never find them again until later when you realise they just fetched up a little further downstream and now here they are and you can go for a walk and appreciate the cherry blossom all over again.
My cyst that might be a tumour boomed with pain, like a looming thundercloud that lit from within with flashes of white. Pain ached through me when I did too much, when I walked too far, the giant ovary, unanchored save for a small fallopian string that was really indadequate for the gargantuan size the cyst/tumour had become, the giant ovary started to rise up and try to burst out of my body, I had to clutch my stomach, compress myself before I could continue.
Now I just have a seam, a line of thick scab that I can't pick because I feel like I might undo myself, pull a scab and open a hole through which I will see my aching, purple bowel.
And I feel sad because I can only do small things like jigsaws and postcards and when I try and tell you about this, the waiting and the living, the pain and the immediacy of my life suddenly reduced to a single illness, it only comes out in jumbled stupid sentences and I start to cry instead.
So I'm sorry I'm not here, and I'm sorry I can't write. I wish I could because somehow I think it would make my life better....if I could make you see my world. Because if we could all see each other inside and out wouldn't that make everything much more peaceful?
I seem to have become confused, don't take anything I say right now as who I actually am. I'm not operating on sound, rational judgement. I can be quite funny sometimes. People like me. I'm not always depressed. Can you see that? I will have to wait, wait until I feel better. Wait until the doctors tell me what I can or can't do. My life has been handed over to a pathologist, and I must wait until next week when he will tell me, red or green.

9 comments:

Pueblo girl said...

With you. xxx

isabelle said...

Oh,but you've described your world perfectly - eloquently- you really have. And through all your words it really does shine through that you're funny and bright and lovely.
Happy birthday and I'm hoping on that green light for you. x x x

haveyouseenthisgirl said...

Pueblo girl, thank you. xx It's so lovely to feel friendly voices through this blog.

Isabelle, what a wonderful comment. Are you my mum in disguise?? You can't be, she's gone out for a walk, so you must be one stranger making another one feel better via the internet. Thank you very, very much.

I am good and bad in waves, it doesn't always come out on this blog; at least, the angsty bits tend to appear first. Wierd, isn't it, putting a five minute version of yourself out into the world, but letting it sit there for weeks as if that's the only thing you are. That's half the reason I keep updating this blog, so that the last version of me doesn't appear permanent.

Anyway, it's a sunny day and my birthday was a low point, but also a turning point and I'm not so miserable any more because you can't be, really, long term, can you. It's got to get better because if it doesn't then your whole life is just a waste.
So I'm going to be driven somewhere that has a view and I can get out and feel the wind and see the fresh green land. And that will do for today, and tomorrow, and the next day. Until finally it will be Wednesday and then I will have a future again.
x

Mallee Chick said...

I'm with #isabelle. When I read your writing my heart leaps for you.
Here's to a green light on Wednesday and to your journey continuing.

Anonymous said...

Happy birthday! and all good wishes for your fast recovery and your bright future! I am thinking a lot about you while I paddle backwards in the shiny and icy winter sunsets, catching wind in my hair and drinking bear's blood.
Miss you a lot!!!
Love will hill you!

Lots of love,kiss and hug

Anonymous said...

Happy birthday! and all good wishes for your fast recovery and your bright future! I am thinking a lot about you while I paddle backwards in the shiny and icy winter sunsets, catching wind in my hair and drinking bear's blood.
Miss you a lot!!!
Love will heal you!

Lots of love,kiss and hug

Anonymous said...

Happy birthday! and all good wishes for your fast recovery and your bright future! I am thinking a lot about you while I paddle backwards in the shiny and icy winter sunsets, catching wind in my hair and drinking bear's blood.
Miss you a lot!!!
Love will heal you!

Hopefully,once in the future,we will catching wind together!

Lots of love,kiss and hug

Ps: Sorry ... everything three times

click clack gorilla said...

Someone on here said happy birthday. Was it your birthday? Happy birthday! Hope the hospital didn't make it suck too much. Speaking of which, is your hospital room a white as mine was? (I went into color shock when I got home, it was insane to suddenly be confronted with so much color. And wonderful.) And where is your scar? Is it just above the pubic hair (or where it would be if they didn't frickin shave it and make it all awful and itchy for the operation) too? I am imagining that it is. For some reason I have been afraid to touch it or look at it. Maybe for similar reasons to what you describe here.

haveyouseenthisgirl said...

hey click clack,

a word on the scar....mine is vertical and goes from nestling in pubes to just above my belly button...they actually cut around my belly button!! I imagine most c sections are horizontal.