A Terror Train
This cancer journey is a wicked stressful ride at times. The words Terror Train springs to mind sometimes when I think about it. Terror is felt so often lately, it almost seems like an old friend at. Terror of him getting pneumonia again, terror of him falling, of test results, of possible medication and chemo side effects, and most of all for me, pure terror I'm not going to hold up and do what needs to be done. There are so many things to strike terror into the heart of the cancer patient, and of the caregiver. And of course that which strikes terror into the heart of the cancer patient, deals just as harsh a blow to a loving caregiver as well.
To keep functioning, the terror has to be contained. It cannot be allowed to grow into a panic attack that renders me useless. A few deep breaths and silent pep talk often do the trick. Some of that terror is relentless, like the fear that stems from not knowing what is going to happen, and will I be able to handle whatever happens? That fear is a constant companion that can become overwhelming at times. Dealing with it takes more than deep breaths and pep talks at times. Which is why sometimes it is necessary for me to take a walk, or do something else that at least for a few precious moments allows me to, if not forget the terror completely, at least push it back enough to contain it, then get the hell on with what I have to do.
That's why things like the rail leading up to the main bathroom, and the little deck and gradual steps leading up to it are so meaningful to those in our situation. Meaningful not just to Mr. Grinch because they help him so much, but meaningful to me as well because that is one less fear I have to deal with. Anything, no matter how small it may be, that can ease some of the constant stress and worry is a very real blessing.
To others in the same situation I am in, I have these words of wisdom for you. Do whatever it takes to contain the terror and maintain your sanity. If that means stepping away for a moment and taking a few deep breaths while you give yourself a pep talk, do it. If it means taking a walk, a hike, a run, a ride, then do it. Chase the guilt away, take the break you need, and get the fear and stress that accompanies us every step of this terrifying journey under control. Do it for yourself, and for the one who are looking after. Should the ghosts of guilt try to haunt you remember this, if you snap and fall to pieces, what will happen to the one who depends on you? And yes, that's a damn stressful and terrifying thought in and of itself. But oddly enough, it is often the one thought that keeps me together. Knowing the answer to that question is what inspires me to do what I need to in order to make sure that doesn't happen.
