“I’m OK, thank you”

I think it’s easier if I don’t try and play catch up, Steve has notes he’s written from the start, I didn’t do that, so I’ll just write how I am doing, how we’re doing, from now.

We’re 8 days after the second dose of immunotherapy.

“How’s Steve?” I can answer that one. He’s tired. Very tired. He sleeps, a lot. I wake him up and get him a cup of tea and his morning meds before I go to work, and when I get home from work he’s usually back in bed, and either trying to sleep or asleep. I wake him up for dinner about 7, he eats, watches whatever we are watching on tv, and generally goes back to bed about 9.30. He’s got some odd niggles, but so far the side effects seem to be going relatively easy on him (touchwood, fingers crossed etc etc)

“And how are you?” is usually the follow up question. And I don’t know. I genuinely don’t know how I am.

I am sad. I am sad that it’s likely my husband isn’t going to be around for all the exciting times we had planned for when the kids didn’t need us anymore. For the trips and holidays we were going to have together. I am so sad for the girls, and for the big things in their lives that he might not get to see. I am sad that I don’t really get to see him. I’m sad that he’s going to die, and leave me on my own.

I am cross. I am cross that suddenly my life, our lives, revolve around cancer. I am cross that this wasn’t the plan, we had kids young, we got a mortgage young, so that we could spent our middle age doing the things we didn’t do when we were young. We have 3 years left of the mortgage, we have both kids grown up and well able to fend for themselves, we had just begun to enjoy time away together. We had begun to settle in life as a couple again, and it was good, but now that future is unlikely to be long. I am cross at the disruption cancer (and Covid) has brought to the girls life’s when they should be having the time of their lives. I am cross. And I am sad.

I am irrationally cross. I am irrationally cross that suddenly everything around the house, all the little jobs, all the dog walking, all the “getting stuff fixed”, all the boring, mundane stuff like emptying the bins and the dishwasher – suddenly everything is down to me. And I am irrationally cross with Steve about that.

I’m feeling sorry for myself.

And I’m feeling selfish about feeling like that. I’m not the one who’s got cancer, who’s being pumped full of drugs every 3 weeks to try and extend my life – and I know he’s not doing it for himself, he’s doing it for me and the girls. And I’m getting cross and slamming cupboard doors because….. well, last Friday it was because he’d been able to go out for breakfast, but he hadn’t emptied the dishwasher.

But generally, the answer I give to the question “and how are you?” is “I’m OK thank you” Because it’s easier, so much easier than going into all of the above. And because, compared to Steve, I am “OK”.

Katie x