Yesterday, I received my last pay cheque. It was another downer to deal with this week.
Included with it was a record of employment that said I was officially off the company payroll and on leave without pay as of October 13. It noted that the return date was “unknown”. A courtesy letter explaining the circumstances around the issue of the record of employment would have been helpful to lessen my anxiety.
My heart sank when reading the “unknown” line; it was an emotional “ouch.”
I thought to myself: “Gee, I didn’t get fired, laid-off, end a term, or leave my job for employment elsewhere, why the record of employment? I’m on sick leave with a doctor’s note to treat a life-threatening illness. If all goes well, I should be back at work next summer. I’ve been on long-term disability since October 13, and can’t collect employment insurance benefits. Am I supposed to do something with this form?” I am still confused about what to do; eventually I will figure it out.
My sickness has relegated me to just another name and number in the work world, evidenced by getting a standard issue form without an explanation. Such are the realities of living with cancer. The reminders are everywhere.
Pity Party for One
The waiter at the restaurant had placed a reserved sign on the table. “Pity Party” it read. Instinctively, he knew where to place me. I was the only person at the table.
It’s hard for people to be around cancer patients, particularly if they are going through some rough days. I cannot blame them; I don’t like “me” either when I have the chemo blues.
The news that I needed to be isolated for my own benefit earlier this week was hard to accept. I was so disappointed that my body let me down again to the point where I have to be kept away from others to be well.
Like all new things that come into my life unexpectedly, I needed a few days to process and accept the changes that chemo isolation brings. (This is not new behavior for me when change comes, I need time to accept and adapt. I just did not recognize it as easily this time because the change wasn’t a new task, but a new situation.) I’m adjusting to the isolation, albeit slowly.
Yesterday afternoon, I decided it was time to move past the self-pity and embrace being shut in as a new part of my life. To get through this last chemo treatment, I know that I need a more positive attitude--the isolation is only temporary.
New Ways to Celebrate the “Ups” in Life
There is still so much for me to be grateful for in my life, despite the daily struggles in living with this disease. I reminded myself that I can still celebrate the “ups” in my own life and the lives of others while isolated, I just have to find new ways of commemorating using technology. The electronic media and gadgets of the 21st century are a bonus for this.
Here are the “ups” in my life this week:
-The unfailing love of family and friends who are with me for the long haul in this cancer journey on good days and on bad days
-I am starting to feel better--the infection fighting drugs are working, blood counts are rising, digestive acids are decreasing, my appetite is coming back, and I can drink water without heartburn
-My hair is starting to grow back; it is about a ¼ inch long
-I still have eyebrows and eyelashes
-I have not been on painkillers for four days
-I reconnected with an old friend in Calgary this week that shared the excitement of her going on a three-month “voluntourism” trip to Uganda today
- I had stocked up on sewing and craft supplies to stay occupied when energy levels permit (intuitively, I knew that I might be more housebound as chemo sessions progressed, so I prepared)
-I have started making Christmas presents to return to a less commercialized celebration this year; we are going to focus more on the gifts of family and friends in our lives, which no one can ever buy or replace
-A close friend’s daughter is feeling better after having an extended illness since the summer
-My sister and her mate bought a new house and I was the first one she told
-I updated the cable package yesterday, which will make TV more tolerable—“so long” to reality shows, soaps, Oz, Phil, Oprah, and Ellen and “hello” to more intellectual offerings that extra channels provide (or more channels to sleep by)
Each day I get a little better and stronger as I count down to my last chemo treatment in just over two weeks. I imagine myself donning red boxing gloves to fight this last round with Strength, Courage, and Determination.