Appearances. From a very young age my siblings and I were all taught and told to keep up appearances. As a child I never really cried. If I needed to cry I would just go into the shower or sit in the laundry on a Friday afternoon as the washing machine went about its business. My father told me that crying was for the weak and showing any kind of emotions in public (except those of utter happiness) was just unacceptable. So now, while going through this ordeal, trying to keep myself alive I feel as if I have hit a brick wall. I try to keep up my daily routine as much as possible. I push myself to go to work and put 100% into each and every day. I come home and push myself to be the good boyfriend. I visit my mother and push myself to be the good son by mowing the lawn and painting the bathroom. I go to friends’ birthday parties and dinners out. I smile for the camera and never let on that something is up. Inside. I have friends who call me or email me telling me that I look real healthy and happy on my facebook pictures. My doctor tells me its great I haven’t lost any of my hair yet. That I’m one of the lucky ones.
Lucky ones………………. Since when do keeping up appearances and being lucky go hand in hand? Wearing big glasses so people don’t see the blackness in my eyes. Sitting out in the sun to get some colour, so people don’t see how pail and green my body has become. How is this lucky? Is this a form of denial? Have I not accepted the fact that I have cancer and may very well die?
If hiding how sick I am on the outside was working, hiding how much pain I was in wasn’t. The daily ritual of getting out of bed and getting dressed for work takes almost an hour in itself. That’s not including breakfast. The hardest part is getting out of bed or having the strength to even walk up those stairs to make something to eat. My partner isn’t usually home when I get up as he starts work at an ungodly hour (6am). Some days the pain gets the better of me and I make that call or text message to my boss informing her that I wont be coming in to work. I hate doing that. I hate disappointing people. Today wasn’t such a bad day considering. I made it out of bed and even did a full day of work. Came home and sat by the pool (wearing sunscreen of course) and hoped and wished that the sun could cover up some of my liver spots. Or my green veins that seemed to cover my arms and legs.
Anytime someone asks how I am doing; a quick knee jerk reaction of ‘I’m great!’ comes out. I don’t know why. I guess people are happier hearing that and not ‘I feel like shit! I wish I was in bed!’