I get that question a lot. How do you feel? How are you doing? How are you holding up?
It’s comforting to know that people care. But it’s also so hard to answer. The emotional range inside me can be quite vast. Sometimes I’m not even sure how I feel.
I don’t think I will ever go back to how I felt “before”. That’s because even when things are looking really good for Elliot, really quite optimistic, there is one feeling I can’t seem to get back: feeling carefree. That feeling has left the building.
There’s one feeling that is constant, that I think many cancer world inhabitants can relate to. Sometimes just a faint whisper of it in the background of your mind, other times a huge roar overwhelming you. I can’t quite name it, it’s not something I felt before this. But the best description is that’s it’s a cross between anger and fear. Those two feelings combine to make one overpowering feeling… Shall we call it Fanger?
And it’s not just plain anger and fear, but outright rage and overwhelming terror, all rolled into one emotion. That’s Fanger.
It’s what you feel when you think about the Whys. And the What Ifs. It goes quite well with a nice serving of the phrase “It’s not fair.” (Add whatever extra words in that sentence you deem necessary).
Another strange feeling I have felt since beginning this cancer journey is called Wope. It’s a combination of Hope and Worry. It feels like juggling ten sharp swords while riding a unicycle on a tightrope which is maybe hanging over a net… Nobody really wants to be around you when you’re feeling Wope so it’s best to keep it to yourself.
Oh and then there’s that lovely feeling Anxhaustion, the overwhelming anxiety mixed up with absolute exhaustion, which is encountered usually about three hours before you can possibly go to bed, and often being especially high on the days before a scan or MRI. Anyone messes with a person feeling Anxhaustion is likely to get their head bit off.
Oh but wait, one of my favorites is Imdreadcipation, isn’t it yours too? That wonderful cocktail of impatience, dread and anticipation you feel while waiting for the test results, waiting to see the oncologist, waiting to get the chemo, waiting to have a scan, waiting, waiting, waiting…
Then again there’s that occasional bout of Nervanity, that combo of nervousness and insanity that often strikes suddenly, like right after your child has knocked over the tray of medicine in his struggle to get away from the nurse and you have to start the whole procedure over, and you are overcome with completely inappropriate laughter.
And let’s not forget Sorryuckyourself, often felt when people stare at you when you’re out in public. I’ve felt it when stopping quickly for groceries at the store after a chemo day and Elliot has an “I want a toy” tantrum. It’s a mix of feeling sorry for yourself and feeling like telling people exactly what they can do with their parenting advice.
But the very best, I guess, is Grelief, the mix of relief when you finally get good results and grief at the knowledge that your life will never be the same again