I Can’t Do This By Myself

The first word someone would use to describe me would be strong. When I began telling people I had endometrial cancer, the first thing they would say is “You’re strong. You’ll make it through this.” No one said “I’m sorry.” No one asked if I needed help. No one asked how I was coping. The unspoken assumption was that I was going to get through this and everything was going to be alright.

Surprise. I’m not strong. I can’t do this by myself. I’m scared and I want my mommy. I want someone to hold me and tell me everything is going to be alright. On those nights when I can sleep, I cuddle my 50-year-old teddy bear to my chest. I want to cry but feel as if I’m not allowed because I’m “strong.”

I am going through this alone. I have been estranged from my family since 2009. I don’t have a spouse, a significant other or a lover to share my fears with. I remember when my mom and dad were both diagnosed with cancer. The entire family rallied around them. I wish I had that closeness, but my family made unfortunate decisions that led to a rupturing of family ties that can never be repaired. This fight I fight alone.

My total hysterectomy is scheduled for April 18. No one will be there, partly because I have asked friends not to come. My gynecologist oncologist is performing minimally invasive surgery using the da Vinci robotic surgical system. With luck, I’ll be discharged the next day. My family won’t be there. I don’t want to be a bother to anyone. Remember. I have my “strong” image to live up to. A strong woman handles endometrial cancer alone.

I have so much on my plate right now. I own my own freelance writing business, Codemo Writing Services. I have been unable to work. I have lost clients. I am barely making it right now. I can’t look for new clients because dealing with cancer takes time away that I can devote to cultivating new clients. Not only am I dealing with cancer, I am worried about how I am going to pay my rent, keep my lights on, keep my internet connected, keep my phone service turned on, feed my cat. My electricity is being disconnected March 21 because I can’t pay the charges. I have no one to bail me out.

I had a wonderful support group who rallied around me but I’ve heard from no one since I dropped my bombshell. I wish someone would pick up their phone and call me just to see how I’m doing. I know everyone has busy lives but is it so difficult to pick up the phone and make a call. What I hear from my support group is I’m strong and I will make it through this. I hate the word strong.

I don’t own a car and my doctor is located two hours away in St. Louis. I take Amtrak to my doctor appointments. I have to have a colonoscopy on April 10, a week before my surgery. Because it is scheduled before the first Amtrak train leaves Springfield that morning, I’ve had to make arrangements for lodging the night before. After my colonoscopy and my pre-surgery workup, I walk two blocks to the MetroLink station and take Amtrak home.

I have to go down the night before my surgery, which is scheduled for 7:30 a.m. I have to be there at 5:30. Again, I’ve had to arrange for lodging the night before. I will walk two blocks to the MetroLink station and take Amtrak home the next day. There will be no one at home to take care of me post-surgery.

Am I feeling sorry for myself? Probably. I’m entitled. I have cancer damn it.

I can do this because I’m strong. It’s how I’ve always handled the curve balls life has thrown at me – alone. Being alone has been a conscious choice on my part. I’ve pushed people away. I’ve prided myself on the fact that I have never needed anyone because I’m strong. You know what. I’m not and I do.