Sounds Reasonable, Right?

Underneath my beard I am not lovely at all.

I probably owe Colette a huge apology, but I don’t think I’m going to give it to her.

Colette called me on Thursday and said that she would be coming in to bring Jacquie home on Friday and so she will sleep over that night but will be leaving first thing Saturday to go camping with her family.  Oh please, don’t do me any favours?

I, trying to hold back tears, say that I don’t think I will be home.  That I already have plans.  In my mind, I am thinking where I can hide in the house if she comes over and Jacquie lets her in.  I need to take my key back from Jacquie.

Sounds reasonable, right?

I knew I was coming down with a case of the sours along with a case of sadness on Friday when I read Shelly’s answer to my blog.  ‘How fun will this be?’ she wrote.  I don’t know, you tell me.  How condescending.

Sounds reasonable, right?

Colette comes to my house carrying gifts.

She brought a bound copy of my blog, along with some pictures of me at the time I was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer.  There is even an 8 x 10 picture.  ‘I really like this picture of you, do you?’  “No.  I don’t like it at all. I don’t like this binder you put the blog in either.  I do love the idea of the blog though.  This is not how I would want it done though.”

Sounds reasonable, right?

Colette keeps saying that she should just drive home tonight.  I’m like while you should sleep over Colette and go in the morning so you don’t have to drive in the dark.  ‘It will be dark in the morning too because I will be leaving around 5:30 a.m.  Maybe, I will just go tonight.’  “Go then, if that is what you want to do.”  I totally feel like such a charity case.

Sounds reasonable, right?

Attending a birthday party for Grace on Sunday, I fall off of a chair at Jacquie’s house.  Reaction completely exaggerated to the situation.  Look beside me and see Brett is in tears because I fell, Jeff is looking at me like he is scared, Luke has a look of pure compassion as he pats my hand, and everyone else is looking at me.  I start crying.  Feel like such a spectacle.

Sounds reasonable, right?

Tuesday, Jacquie phones ‘What time do you want me to pick you up for picc care?  Do you want to go for breakfast?  Do you need me to pick you up after group?’  No, I don’t think so because Shelly always picks me up.

Phone Shelly for a ride from group.  ‘Yeah that should be okay.  What time?  I will have to get one of the boys to come and answer the phones.  No, yeah that will be fine.’  Feel like I just pulled my own tooth.

Wait 10 minutes and phone her back telling her I don’t need her to pick me up I have another ride.  The rides name is transit if Jacquie can’t pick me up.

Sounds reasonable, right?

Jacquie can you pick me up from group too?  ‘Sure no problem.’

Jacquie is truly the only person besides my family who never makes me feel like a beggar.  In a way, I resent her for this too.  Because I want to be angry and I know that would be blatantly unjust.

Sounds reasonable, right?

At group yesterday, I said that I would pass on my cancer to any of my siblings if it meant that I didn’t have cancer anymore.  I thought everyone would feel the same way as I do and I am surprised that no one does, except for maybe Noreen.  I am truly a monster.

Sounds reasonable, right?

I know that my reactions to these situations are completely unnecessary and exaggerated, and to a certain extent unreasonable.

I think (even though I know it is bizarre to think that way) that being sick has made me weak, a pitiable creature, a chore; someone people feel sorry for.  That is what I hate.

I was never supposed to be the person with cancer.  I was supposed to be the person that was a friend of the person with cancer.

This is so difficult.  Having cancer.  Having treatment for cancer.  Not having treatment for cancer.  Having no one around who does not live in my head and my body to see and know how I feel.

I feel like I am a ‘Loser’ and somehow I have lost the game.  I am ashamed of my cancer.  I can tell you I struggle with that sometimes, even though rationally I know it is crazy.

I feel that when people come to see me, it is an obligation.  A pit stop on their way to their true destination.  A chore similar to Prince Charming having to muck out the Ugly Stepsisters outhouse before he can attend the Ball.

At this time I can not give a true apology to Colette, as I feel much sorrier for myself than I do for how I acted.  I’m just tired of it.

Sounds reasonable, right?