What happens when the caregiver is running out of steam and on the verge of a breakdown? I wish I knew because I am at this point. I'm tired. Exhausted. I can't sit in another doctor's office and listen to the latest 'plan' for Phil's cancer. He's been on everything and every combination of everything. In the last 10 years Phil has not been in remission. He has literally been fighting cancer, alive and kicking in his body. Which means I have been caretaking for as long. He sees his oncologist next Friday where we'll learn the results of the latest pet scan. Oh boy. Where is the cancer settling comfortably into now. It is so unfair.
I get envious when I read on WhatNext, the American Cancer Society forum about people who are in remission, or celebrating there five year mark of remission and are now considered to be cancer free. Not cured, as there is no cure for cancer. Phil on the other hand has never even been able to say he's in remission and it seem unfair to both of us. While cancer does reside in Phil's body, it certainly effects both of us. I don't know how other caregivers handle it.
I would love to be able to go away, by myself, and sit on the beach for a week and hibernate. Soak up the vitamin D and have nothing to do but select what, off my Kindle, I wan to read next. Maybe sit and read all 6 of Jane Austen's novels during the day and watch the movies at night. As I said hibernate. Alone.
I don't want to go the dr. appointment. I don't want to hear whatever Dr. Ingber has to say. I have heard it all before a hundred times. I don't need to know where the cancer has spread to this time. I already know that it has, so why go through the torture of hearing it all again. I do go so I can be there with Phil to support him so he doesn't go this alone. I am his rock. But I am crumbling under the stress and heartache. How can I help him when I can't even help myself right now. We'll go to the appointment and hear the latest developments and I will cry while Phil sits stoic. Afterwards we'll sit in the car and talk and then go to Johnny Johns for lunch. Phil will eat, and I will nibble at the cheese in my sandwich.
Stress is not becoming on me. I haven't been to see my mom in three weeks because I just can't. For some reason the thought of driving out there to see the shadow of her is depressing and I can't do it. Does this make me a horrible daughter? Probably. But adding one more thing to my list of people to take of is overwhelming to right now and I can't do it.
Tonight I have book club. I'm looking forward to going as it means I get to be around a group of women I really like and enjoy. Tonight we are playing cards from Jane Austen's books, and I volunteered to teach everyone Whist, which is the fancy English name for hearts. I played hearts on many a Boy Scout camping trip, so I had to job my memory a bit and read up on how to score Whist which is different than scoring Hearts.
Sunday I have a costuming event. Celebrating Bastille Day with a walk through the botanical gardens and then lunch at a French café. A perfect day and I look forward to it. These costuming events are my getaway from cancer activities. I try to make as many as I can in order to keep my sanity.
I feel that I am at the end of my rope and have nothing and no one to hang onto.
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