Rough Night

I had a really rough night last night. It was the first night that I did not take pain killers to numb the pain from my surgery and so I found myself tossing and turning all night and I woke up numerous times feeling quite uncomfortable. Then, shortly before dawn, I had a absolutely terrifying dream. In my dream, I had died. I was able to look around and see everyone around me but no one could see me. I could tell that Pete could sense that I was still there because he would look in my direction every time he spoke about me, but I knew that he could not see me. Eventually he and I realized that we could communicate with each other by writing on a paper pad that he was carrying. So on the pad, I quickly wrote in large capital letters "I LOVE YOU!" And then I wrote "I cannot believe that I am dead. I cannot believe that my life is all over so soon." And I remember feeling completely in shock that I had died and being so incredibly consumed by grief and sadness that my life was over. Even now, I cry thinking about the dream because it was so surreal and so overwhelming. Needless to say, I woke up a complete wreck -- the moment I saw Pete I burst into tears and cried uncontrollably.

Later in the morning, when I shared my story with my friend, Isae, she confided that she also had terrible dreams when she was on chemo medication. Her theory is that the body knows it's fighting a life/death battle and that it is being poisoned by the chemo and this knowledge manifests itself in our dreams. I think that this is probably true, since I am a firm believer that dreams are simply your mind's way of working through issues and feelings that it cannot (for whatever reason) deal with during the day.

I re-read the "Why Me?" entry that I posted a couple days ago and realized that I am probably conveying a message to everyone reading this blog that I am completely poised and in control and feeling incredibly strong about my situation. And I definitely have moments like this, but I would be doing a disservice to myself and to anyone battling cancer to pretend that this is how I feel every moment of every day. The reality is that I am scared to death. All of the "changes" that I wrote about in my "Why Me?" entry are things that I truly feel compelled to make -- and some of them I have already started to affect -- but there is one that I don't even know how to begin to tackle: the one regarding "contemplating the meaning of life and the meaning of death so that you develop a sense of peace in your heart about what 'life' really means." Receiving a cancer diagnosis rocked me to the very core; it completely threw off my equilibrium and has made me question everything I thought was real and true about my senses, my body, my intelligence...everything! When I first heard the word "cancer", I was in a complete state of shock for probably a week. The news forced me to look directly in the face of my own mortality, and I fully admit that as soon as I could collect my wits, I turned around and bolted in the opposite direction as fast as I could. I do not want to look into the face of death. I do not want to think about dying -- it is too overwhelming to me! I have been incredibly blessed in my life....I have an amazing husband, wonderful friends, an incredible family and two of the most amazing and beautiful children that I think have ever existed on this earth. And I fought so, so, sooo incredibly hard to bring my two beautiful children into this world...it is overwhelming to me to think that this could all be over before I even get to fully enjoy their unique and quirky personalities or soak in all the wonderful things that make them who they are. But I know that I must face the reality of death. Any good therapist will tell you that just because you don't actively think about something that is scary, doesn't mean that the scary thoughts do not exist inside you. And the thoughts will find their way out somehow -- either through dreams (as was my case last night), or through depression, or through illness, or through tears.

The problem is that I am not really sure where to begin. I haven't quite figured out yet how one willingly stares into the face of death while at the same time remaining positive and optimistic about the final outcome. These seem to be mutually exclusive to me, but hopefully I am wrong. I guess this is my work in the coming weeks and months...this is what I must do in order to develop a sense of "peace in my heart about what life really means." If anyone reading this blog has thoughts to share or advice to give on this subject, I am all ears!