Here comes the hard part

by Hilla Duka

white flower petals on green

Tomorrow (or today, as the clock has already passed that magic, midnight marker and created a brand new day, never seen before) it’s time for my three months check up, and so naturally I’m wide awake, worrying, thinking back…

 

Three months ago, I was given an  “all-clear” checkup. To the best of their abilities, they couldn’t see any growth, and so I was given the gift of three more months. It’s the best news someone in my situation can hope for. Now, as I beg / plead / hope for another three months - for the same news again, I suppose it’s only natural that I look back on my last gift, and try to weigh it out -  did I do something good with that gift? Only I’m not sure. I know I’ve spent time with my kids, and that was time well spent. Yes, I got to do some of the big things, like hear them sing their summer songs with the school choir, and celebrated end of school. I actually took my kids to see Valborg (Walpurgis, with the big bonfires) celebrations, but most of all, I got to cuddle them. I got to hold them when they cried, when they worried and were afraid of dying, I got to be there for them and tell them it would all be alright. I used those three months to help friends, cherish time with my kids and for the first time ever, go on a no-kids trip with my husband. In that sense - time well spent.

 

However I still focus way too much on work. I think about work when I’m not working, and I still answer my work emails at night. The last few months I’ve been so very stressed about work, as  I managed to make the classic mistake of accepting a larger workload than I could actually do well, and that’s really affected me strongly. I don’t handle stress very well with my post-chemo brain, which means I need to get really good at not getting stressed. I haven’t been very good at that. I love my job, and I care what happens, but I need to improve myself here before I can be of help to anyone else. When I was on sick leave, all I wanted was to get back to work. Now that I’m working again, I realise it’s not as easy as that. It’s not just working, it’s working with a purpose, mindfulness at work, if you will.

 

Also, in the back of my head is this notion that I should do something great, for the good of others, and I’m really not doing that. Like, sell all my belongings and work with children in Syria or something. But I’m not, am I? Instead, I trudge along, see my therapist, my physiotherapist, the nurses. I take my medicines, I pray and hope for the best and I try to be thankful for every bloody day that I get. And then when some dull ache in my back won’t go away for days, I break down from the worry and agony of not knowing, of always waiting.

 

If in a week or whenever the results come in, I once again get the all-clear verdict, no sign of growth, how can I take that gift and spend those three months better? How can I make sure, that in the end, those months mattered? Im starting to get that these are questions I need to find a way to answer, if I want my life to have meaning and purpose.


Tomorrow is the easy bit. All I have to do is get a shot up my arm and lie in a machine. Next comes the hard part - waiting for news. And that’s the really fucked up bit - when you have advanced cancer, on some level you always do that - just wait for news and do your best to not completely lose your marbles while waiting.

Milo playing by the fountain


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