Writing It Off

I sometimes wonder what I'm doing writing all this drivel, troubling others with problems that should remain dignified and private. Why bother when the effect is only to spread bad tidings with occasional light anecdotes to brighten the misery? Is it because I find writing cathartic that I do it, or do I only wish to pass the burden on, or maybe, lighten the load by sharing it? No doubt, I had reasons at the start, but now I can't remember why I began. 



But here's the thing - having begun there was no going back on the 'journey' (a name provided, not by me, but by someone kind enough to read my blitherlings here), or on the writing about it. Such has been the support that at some point I suddenly realized I couldn't have made it thus far without the kindly words of advice, encouragement, understanding and most importantly, all those sincere thoughts from people I have come to consider dear friends.



Now, out of the above - advice, encouragement and understanding, etc. it's hard to see thoughts as something tangible, yet they are the very thing that has given me much needed strength, and I believe each one offered has granted me the courage to continue even at my lowest ebb. I'm not brave of myself, but there's something about knowing that you are taking wishes for bravery and positivity in the thoughts of others that empowers you with strength you never singly possessed. 



I'm remembering a few weeks since - seems an age ago now, when I went to get my picc line installed. I didn't want it, and having had the dangers explained to me, and then been assured they were all rare, and probably treatable, because my veins are poor these days, and the effect of the chemo would be to burn and ruin what vessels they might, or might not be lucky enough to find, I agreed to have the picc line threaded through a deep vein on the inside of my right arm, heading almost into my heart via my chest - something most people gracefully accept, by the way, and do so without a fuss. Not me. 



Just before the procedure commenced (might have mentioned in a past post), I started to have a panic attack. But the nurse, Angela, kindly helped me get my breathing under control, saying, 'Smell the rose, blow out the candle.' (Breathe in through the nose, and out through the mouth, basically, but much more prettily put, and easier to visualize and perform under pressure) Try it, it works. 



I gradually stopped hyperventilating and calmed down, and she was wonderful, but her mantra wasn't the only thing that brought me back from the brink. That morning I received an email from a friend who asked what time my appointment was, and who simply said, 'I'll be thinking of you.' and as I lay stock still, getting threaded, I thought of those words, and knew it was true - I wasn't alone. Everyone I'd told about the appointment had made the same promise - to be thinking of someone who needed bigger courage. They were all with me in that room, and the strength I gained from their combined thoughts took away my panic. I felt a bit of a knob afterwards, but was reassured I wasn't, which was nice. And I never got to read the note forwarded to my oncologist, saying that if she sent me to them in future, could I please be dosed up on suitable tranquilizers. Oh well!



So what's in a thought? Mostly, I guess, when folk say they are thinking of you they mean they wish you well. But for the receiver of a thought it can mean so much more. There is a personal presence in the thinking in that the person who couldn't be with you physically is there in mind and spirit, so that you are not alone. This gives you, the receiver, the power to turn a small wish into anything from company, to a weapon against the most debilitating fear. 



And what have I done with all these very valuable thoughts? Deleted. Trashed. Every trace of evidence erased from my inbox. Except they are not gone, can never be erased from my heart because each one has meant so much to me it's indelibly etched into my very being. Take that literally, if you wish, because there have been times I believe I wouldn't have gotten through without your support. And that brings me back to the writing. 



Writing is about sharing, and sharing welcomes people into your life, becoming a two way thing. Emails may have been deleted along the way, but care and concern stays with you for as long as needed. I only have to go back and read all the uplifting comments on my 'journey' posts and I'm filled with the warmth of human kindness. And that's what it is, don't knock it! It's not about prayer - that's a whole other subject. I've been told I'm in people's prayers, and that means so much to me as well, but the warmth of human kindness has meant the world to me. I guess really, what I'm trying to convey, before I become guilty of a lengthy waffle, is my thanks for every thought, wish and prayer sent my way over these past grueling weeks.



Thank you xxx with love xxx



Bee



Ps. And the picc line is coming out today! Yaay!!!