I'm sure you know the feeling I'm talking about: Why am I even fighting this? My head knows that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but I'm just so tired of fighting.
If you're the family member of someone with cancer, work hard to give them something to fight for. It doesn't help if you yell at the person with cancer. It doesn't help if you have a parent with cancer and refuse to listen to them. I feel like I'm raising a totally useless to society child. I can't get him to clean his room, he lies to me, he steals from me and hides things in his room.
I had an incidence outside my house yesterday that involved the police, an ambulance and a very angry black woman. All I heard was "he was tryin' to kill me." I had been gone taking my younger son to school, and had left my older, handicapped child at home. He's self sufficient for about a half day. He cooks by himself, does everything but shave himself (not much dexterity). He is a bit trusting, and would let Ted Bundy or Charles Manson into the house, but he's also strong. I got home in time for the ambulance door to shut and the cops to leave. But, it got me wondering if she just happened to be walking by our yard and got attacked by a group of black school kids because they thought she lived here....we have a Romney/Ryan sign in our yard.
So I decided to make sure I knew and was familiar with the lock on our gun. We have a trigger lock so it can't accidentally fire. It's a revolver. I found the key, but couldn't find the gun. When I texted my husband, he said he thought he hid it, but couldn't remember where. He hid it so well, that he hid it from himself. I stopped looking when I found two machetes and a mace pen. Good enough.
But I decided to see if maybe my 13 year old took it to his room. Dumber things have happened. He was complaining the other day that he didn't have any school uniform pants, that some were too small. I had just made a trip to the store to buy another pair. There were three stuffed behind his bed with about 3 loads worth of clothes. I started pulling things out and got madder as I went. Anger is not good, stress is not good, for cancer patients. I found the fork I'd been looking for. I have somehow "lost" half my good forks and had to buy another set from the thrift store. I only had 4 left, so I knew how many. It had a bent tine that was burnt. How and why do you burn a fork?
I told my husband he had to deal with it, because I didn't need the stress. Originally, the first time I got cancer, I prayed that I would live long enough to see him drive. He was 5 at the time, turning 6 before treatment was over. Now I want to take it back. I want to die before I have to see him in prison. It makes me wonder where I went wrong.
But my whole point in that story was to let kids know (and any other care giver) if they have a parent with cancer, little things can throw them into a depression. Fighting is everything. When you lose the will to fight, you may lose the battle. If anyone does read this blog, pray for the strength to fight. I'm losing the will to fight this any longer.
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