Many of us experience isolation and walk alone in our cancer journeys. Regardless of the stage or type it’s difficult and frightening, causing emotional strain and stressing the infrastructure of even our strongest relationships. My husband is in the third year of his depression. Although he’s trying, the lows and valleys run into and erase from memory the days and weeks with small glimmers of hope. He makes sure to remind me of the roof over mu head but seems to have no recollection or reasonable understanding of how his depression continues to effect my health and the stressors of my 19 year old step son who lives in our home and does nothing to make things any easier or to help out.
He’s caused innumerable problems and I tried throwing him out with the encouragement of his own biological mother but he’s back and I feel trapped like a lab rat on a sinking ship. My pain is worse then ever and I am worse for the wear. I feel like there’s no way to find peace and air and light. I am stuck in a paradox worse than Xeno’s – staying in the current situation is de facto stressful and lonely; if I leave it’s de facto stressful and lonely. I’ve tired going out all day and keeping myself busy but I get so tired I find myself just sitting in my car sometimes wasting time and reasoning through unreasonable questions and behavior.
I’ve put years of my life into helping this boy. He’s spoiled and he’s not appreciative of how the foundation of a good life he’s rejected will bite him in his rear end when he gets older. Although he’s very much aware that he’s making my fight harder, it seems he does it quite purposely to create fights between my husband and I so I don’t have the veto to block his father from financing requests for undeserved expenses – he’s failed 11th grade three times now and he refuses to just do the little work to pass. I got him into the best charter school in our area and he’s lied so I cannot show my face on campus but for the embarrassment.
As if this could get any worse I lost insurance for over a month and was switched to Medicare from Cal-Med -no paperwork from the government , just a call saying I could not go to the infusion center for my faslodex, xgeva, and zolodex and my appointments were cancelled until I had everything worked out. Ummm….yeah? Like this is a way to treat a 2+ year patient with a 10 year outlook?
I wonder if 10 years prognosis can make someone feel no better than a 2 year or less outlook or have a cold false smile from positive test results . Awful as it feels to say this I cannot help believing that emotions like happiness and joy cannot be a part of this life. What is my raison d’etre anyway? I cannot seem to make my husband believe I’m worth it to work at lifting the veil of his depression and stop blaming me for the natural course of time to take his son and let him find his way already. If he weren’t depressed I know this kid wouldn’t be here and my husband would not feel guilty if he were himself again.
But if wishes were dollars I would be very wealthy woman.
For whatever reason there is – biological or sociological or psychological – the stepmother reminds everyone of a failed marriage, a failed mother, a failed family. The new family units popping up everywhere are the norm now, not the exception. I think that some steps are better equipped than some biological parents to rear children, not to say a kid doesn’t need their parents somewhat like comparing that situation to an adoption. Not in my case. However, my husband happens to be adopted and has no real need to locate his biological mother or father. That said, he had an idyllic childhood and his biological mother did him a solid by giving him to people who really wanted to raise him and could afford to do so. Not that money buys love. It can’t.
If I told you some of the shit sandwiches I’ve had to eat over the past 10 years, you’d never want to eat again. It’s ingesting the worst kind of manipulation possible and allowing it to become part of our life’s fabric. We cannot help the guilt and the pain that our steps go through – we do our best, many of us anyway, to help them rise above choices they didn’t make. But so it goes, the bio mom has a lot to do with the kid’s attitude as we enter these situations with the best of intentions. If intentions were dollar bills I’d be Bill Gates. I love both of those kids – regardless of the behavior each has bestowed upon me. My younger one now 16 apologized for his less than stellar behavior, calling me a gold digger and his dad a stupid bread winner not believing I looked sick enough to have cancer. This coincided with his pre-teen hormonal hell. He is kind, loving, and helpful to me as he was prior to puberty – quite the opposite of his brother.
My husband’s guilt won’t allow him to drop kick him out to find that in the real world there aren’t private bedroom suites with bathtubs and house cleaners and magic fridges that fill themselves, and magic cars that have gas and pick him up and drop him off anywhere for free anytime, and juice containers to put your unbrushed mouth full of germs on and drink the freshly squeezed juices I make, or lock yourself up in a bedroom with a lovely daybed cum couch (excuse the double entendre) and play guitar or xbox until all hours and sleep until 2 in the afternoon, or talk to an adult by yelling and cursing and without a modicum of respect, and I won’t go on…
So, the loneliness sets in deep.
May we all not have to get used to being alone, as there are too many of us to have to be done with people just because we have a metastatic cancer. In educating people who do not have active cancer, they’re surprised to learn that although there’s no evidence of tumors or worse, thankfully, because their immune systems recognize and erradicate them.
It seems like an eternity still, two years and three months since my diagnosis. When I hear comments from people who know little about the disease, and mostly from rather snarky people who say, “oh, you’ll be fine” or “you look too good to have cancer” or other demoralizing, ignorant statements as such, I do not mind educating any of them. It seems, however, few want to learn. In education we sometimes find a fear that we needn’t have uncovered so late in life. But is ignorance bliss and lying to ourselves better than knowing the truth?
In step parenting and in metastatic cancer, as with being a wife to someone with long term depression and his inadvertency to get the help he needs to give me some of the help I need, I wonder if the human condition doesn’t somehow rely on lying to itself in order to continue to propagate itself.
As the line said in the title of this post, and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries. You Paul Simon, are a genius.