Monthly Archives: May 2021

“I’m Just Tired”: The Truth

Please be aware that some of the content may be triggering. Please take care 💚

I say to you I’m tired. And I am. I’m tired of life. I’m tired of my head. I’m tired of everything I cannot change. I’m tired of fighting.

I say I’m tired. And I am. But I’m hiding behind it. I’m not sure what I feel. I don’t have the capacity to know or understand my feelings so I’m tired will have to do as I’m too tired to work it out.

I’m tired. I’m exhausted. My body and mind don’t want to work. My head is thumping. My limbs are aching. Sleep doesn’t help. I want to be in bed. I want to give up. I want to hide away.

I’m tired. Of being a burden. Of being a failure. Of being a no good human being. Of being the worst of everything. Of always being the one who doesn’t know how to be OK.

I’m tired and I want to go to bed. But I don’t want to ever wake up. I don’t want to face the world anymore. I don’t want to feel anymore. I don’t want to exist anymore.

So yes I’m tired but it’s so much more.

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Chaotic Cancer: A Family Member’s View: Prognosis

Please be aware that some of the content may be triggering. Please take care 💚

This is my view as a family member of someone who has been diagnosed with cancer, with particular relation to issues it causes to my longstanding mental illnesses.

Prognosis. What’s likely to happen? Are we looking at a time frame? Will treatment be a cure? Staging? Grading? All this suddenly comes up. Some of the things you don’t even realise until you’re in the middle of it. Like I didn’t realise there was a difference between the grading of a tumour and the stage of cancer. There is. (Grading looks at the speed and growth of the tumour, Staging looks at how much cancer there is and how much it has spread).

Prognosis was something that came into my mind straight away. I wanted to know if my mum would get better or did I have limited time with her. This was why there were many more tests required after diagnosis. We were pretty sure it had spread from a primary source to the liver and it was important to try and find the primary source. It was suspected to be in the stomach. The type of cancer my mum has (neuroendocrine) means the primary can be on one of many places and usually isn’t found until it has spread. As it was mum’s was an incidental finding during an operation.

To begin with we had a lot of confusion surrounding the prognosis. We were originally told it wasn’t curable but it was treatable. This sounded OK. Then we got the grading back and at first it was not the best outcome but a manageable one. Mum would have years. Within an hour we had another phonecall that changed that to it being more aggressive. Finally my mum asked for clarity on prognosis.

Eighteen months to two years life expectancy.

It was like a slap. We had never been led to believe this was the case at all. Mum just dissolved. Understandably. I just had to get out of the house (oh yes as it is covid times, her prognosis was given via a video appointment). I phoned my best friend and told her. Her response of “Shit” sums it up really. It was hard telling her. It was hard saying it out loud.

After a bit of tears, not many, I pulled it all in. I’ve buried it on the whole. I spoke briefly to the psychologist who did my last lot of therapy as I wasn’t sure about doing the group she wanted me to join. She told me to try and forget the time they had said and just go with it. After all it could be wrong. This I try to do but when you least expect it the words “eighteen months to two years” slap you in the face. I might not even get to 34 with my mum still here. My mum still has her mum at 63. It doesn’t feel fair. It’s unlikely she’ll see a grandchild.

I also feel a lot of guilt. We don’t always have the best relationship and I struggle with both ways of thinking.

The biggest thing that got me though was when I was stressing over all the chaos of cancer and someone said “it’ll get easier” and realising that it’ll only be easier, maybe, when she dies. Until then cancer will be there causing chaos. This has massively messed with my head. I’ve had nightmares. I’ve had panic attacks in the middle of the night. I cope by trying to just be practical and ignore it. But it gets to you in the end.

For more information and support about cancer check out Macmillan Cancer Support. You can keep up to date and share on my Twitter, Facebook or Instagram.

A Letter To My Best Friend

This is a personal piece. Please be aware some content may be triggering.

Dear M,

You have stuck by me for a very long time. 13 years we have known each other and in my mind we just seemed to click straight away. You made joining a new university in my second year, when everyone has already made good friends, less daunting. You didn’t mind me sitting with you. You were awesome.

I feel our friendship cemented itself quickly and more so when we worked together on the project away from uni. You made me laugh a lot. We seem to have a very similar style of humour. Working together seemed easy. It was definitely the best paired work I’ve done and the most enjoyable.

When you left uni soon after, I missed you a lot. I was determined to keep this friendship. It meant, and still does, a lot to me. I loved that we messaged each other nearly everyday. It was/is so easy to talk to you and I always look forward to seeing you.

You were the main person to encourage me to get help for my mental health. You were so supportive and made yourself available at all times even when you weren’t doing the best yourself. I’m forever grateful for this. You even stuck by me after the suicide attempt. You’ve dealt with so many of my attempts to end my life.

You’ve also been my biggest cheerleader. Helping me push through to finish my degree, helping me do something special for my 21st, and celebrating me graduating. There’s been many milestones since as well and you are always the first person I want to, and normally do, tell. You push me to do what you know I’m good at. You can see my potential.

I’ve loved being a part of your milestones too. Going to your hen party was a high. Seeing you get married was special. And meeting your children has been one of my favourite things. Plus graduating on top of working and being a mum. It may not of been my right but I felt so proud of you, as I still do.

You are an amazing person. You are kind, caring and supportive. You make yourself available to me even with everything in your life. Your family has been amazing to me too and that must be to do with you. I feel comfortable with you, something that doesn’t come easy to me with people. You are special. You always know just what to say and that includes you saying you don’t know what to say. You’re honest with me. I trust you.

So the main point of this is to say thank you. Thank you for being part of my life and allowing me to be part of yours. Thank you for being there and supporting me. The last time I was in A&E you text me the whole time even though you must of been busy and that meant so much to me. I know I’m not the easiest person to be friends with and I’ve worried you repeatedly (I’m so sorry for this) but you’ve stuck by me again and again.

You were the person I wanted with all the news of mum’s cancer. Lockdown has made me miss you like crazy but you’ve shown me our friendship can last through time and distance. I hope you feel the same.

I know I may not be your best friend but you are certainly mine. I would not be here without you. Thank you for being you.

Love Jo x