I originally began an "email list" where I would email various family members and friends updates on Tom's status during treatment. Very recently I decided to begin a blog instead (as my tech skills would fail me with my overly long list of email addresses, which of course was nice, but I'd some how mess it up). The Leukemia Log was born from there. This last week of Tom's treatment, we found ourselves in two different group meetings at the hospital as well and I found that I could use this form of communication (the blog) to possibly be of assistance to other's who find themselves in the position of caretaker or family member.
That has brought me here, writing a new blog, for a very different audience. Of course, if those whom are family or friends of ours find themselves reading this blog, that's okay too... though you may find yourself shedding a tear or two.
To begin, I'd like to share an excerpt of an email I'd wrote to my grandmother awhile back, when Tom was unexpectedly admitted into the hospital due to an e. coli infection that had everyone involved more than frightened.
I have come to realize the worst feeling in the world is not a physical pain, but a sense of helplessness when watching someone else endure an immense amount of discomfort and there being absolutely nothing you can do. I truly hope and pray that this is not a feeling I will have to revisit in life. There are moments where I just cry and wonder why I can't just have the answer. There are times where Tom just repeatedly says its not fair and asks why him and there really is nothing I can say other than "life doesn't work that way".
To build off of this, my grandmother was the caregiver to my grandfather as he battled prostate cancer twice, the second time claiming his life. Her response to me was that I "express this feeling so accurately". When we (and I say "we" as mine and my husband's days seem to be so intertwined now) have a rather bad day, all I can think about are the words I expressed to my grandmother, there. For those who've had a loved one diagnosed with cancer, I'm sure this awful feeling is of no stranger.
I sort of intend for this blog to be more of the untold story. It's so hard as no one wants to hear in my updates of Tom how incredibly terrible he feels, how he can't stop thinking of the possibility of not recovering, how we both find it so hard to have been in a position where our lives were just beginning to fall into place and everything was happening in the right order and all of a sudden we were smacked in the face with a screeching halt to everything. No one wants to hear that, let alone seek it out to read every day. They want to hear that he might have a bad day here and there, but overall things are going well. Not to say that we lie in our blog, but given that so many people are reading it, Tom would rather not have all of the details shared either. Needless to say, I still maintain that these feelings need an outlet and perhaps they can shed some light for someone else in a similar situation. If nothing else it's already beginning to feel therapeutic for myself.
In order to keep this not too incredibly long, I feel that I've explained myself and my purpose here... so I'll end this entry and try going for another.
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