Tears. Never been able to force myself to cry over something just because someone told me I could.
“It’s perfectly OK.” I was told. “You’re not weak if you cry.”
But this morning (yes it was about 4 am) when I awoke, it just came out.
I wasn’t crying for me. Although my arm hurt and my back hurt and I couldn’t get comfortable. And I thought of wigs shopping and the other decisions that lie ahead. These weren’t the cause for the tears.
It was sort of stupid, I suppose. But stupid doesn’t stop it from happening.
It is Tuesday morning and on Tuesday (before all of my surgeries and Doctor’s appointments and test starting happening) was Dennis’ golf day – playing with the “CT Tour” a group he’s grown to love and look forward to being with on a weekly basis. Don’t be fooled by that sounding sort of glamorous. It’s a bunch of guys from the Crosstalker Sunday School class who simply play together. They do some real high stakes betting, putting in $3 each. But they have fun and he has a group that he really feels a part of – and that is what is important.
Well, my inability to get comfortable last night kept him up too so all I could think if when I moved to the sofa was I probably woke him up and now I’ve ruined his golf game for today. That’s when the tears came.
They didn’t stop for a few minutes. But then only did briefly because I began to think of all of the people whose lives I’ve absolutely disrupted with my ailment. And there were more tears. When that round of tears stopped flowing, I was OK. I suppose I got it out.
It’s not that I’ve ever minded being the center of attention. In fact, as a child, I was usually the show off doing something stupid or otherwise to catch the attention of the camera (or whoever might be looking). But I’ve never wanted attention showered on me out of sympathy (or when I did something bad.) I wanted to hide under the rug at those times.
As an adult, I understand that the support system I have in this journey is very important and I’m thankful for it. I clearly understand the difference in feeling sorry for someone and supporting, caring and loving them.
But understand that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel sick about how much of disruption I’m being.
And it’s not over with. This treatment process will be some more journey, I’m sure. I’ve not even learned how many chemo/radiation treatments I’m in for, but even if it is just a handful, that’s a handful that will put many’s lives in disarray again.