The emotional rollercoaster begins

I've enjoyed the small reprieve I've been given, and am enjoying the time home with the girls. It's giving me a chance to get things sorted out before I head into the city to begin my treatment.  It's also made it easy to just 'forget' anything is going on. As they say, life goes on. The bills still need to be paid, the housework still needs to be done, the cupboards still need to be filled with groceries.

But every now and then, it just hits me. It might be a comment on facebook, or replying to an email from a well-wisher. But these moments are brief.  My eyes might leak a couple of tears, I wipe them away, and I carry on. 

So Saturday night was a bit of a surprise for me.  Everyone was in bed, the house was quiet, and I was lying in bed reading.  I swear my biopsy results were just taunting me to read them, begging me to open the packet and read it all for myself in black and white.  So I did.  I read my CT report. I read my OR report.  I read my biopsy results.  And I cried. Seeing my life, seeing who I am, everything about me - condensed into a few paragraphs of medical mumbo-jumbo - this is now who I've become. Nothing about being a mother, having children to care for, a career that is flourishing, a life that I'm creating for us all.  Just 3 words to sum up the 'new' me - Squamous Cell Carcinoma.

There were a few other words in there that I didn't understand, so I had to google them. Which led me to pages and pages of more information than I wanted to know. Which led to other people's stories. Which led to video blogs of similar situations as my own. Which led to a very very long night.

Nurses often joke about those people who call for advice or come into the ER, and the first thing they say is "I was on the internet and....."  Well, I have become that person.  I just can't help it.  I have to know everything NOW.  I want to know what my treatment plan is, how long it will take, how sick am I going to be, will it hurt?  But of course, when you start googling for answers, sometimes you find more than you wanted to know.  And the amount of information that is contradictory is overwhelming.  I've been told my survival rate is around 65%.  Which is depressing enough.  But then I see survival rates as high as 78%! Woohoo!  I'll totally take that extra 13% odd in my favour!

But then I'm on another page and see that the survival rate is 56%.  And I panic. That gives me a 50/50 chance of beating this crap. I need better odds than that.  I have too much to live for, too many things I need to do.  I'm not ready to die.  Not yet. Not like this.  And I think of my kids, I can't leave them alone, they still need me! 

It's 3 in the morning, and I'm crying, sobbing into my pillow, and I'm scared. And my thoughts are just insane, totally irrational.  I keep getting told that it is my attitude and positivity that are going to get me through. But I keep thinking, what if God totally sees through me and knows I'm totally faking it to keep everyone else happy? What if he says "good try, but you never really were that good at acting" and takes me anyway. Or my favourite - God only gives you what you can handle.  Well guess what?  I really don't WANT to handle this! I'm sick of God/Life/The Universe throwing things at me. I'm sick of having to cope with everything. I'm sick of having to deal with shit situations. I'm sick of having to be the strong one all the time.

And I'm now thinking maybe I *should* have taken the doctors offer of ativan and sleeping tablets...