After only 2 weeks I find I’m struggling to stay positive. This doesn’t bode well.
Those who know me will realise I’m not exactly a cock-eyed optimist at the best of times. I prefer to approach life in a sardonic, arched-eyebrow kind of way.
I’ve always thought that people who maintain a sunny disposition in the face of impending danger are, well, idiots. But now it would serve me well to become one of those people! The horror.
Here are the problems I currently face, and some ideas on how to improve them (as I don’t want to come across as a whiner).
Problem: There is nothing to look forward to.
What to do? It’s true that the outings we had planned for the coming months have been cancelled, and we are trying to sell tickets to plays, stand-up comedy, live music events etc. These have been replaced by brain surgery and recovery from brain surgery. It’s nobody’s idea of a Summer of Fun.
I need to focus on the enjoyable everyday things we still do. We can still go out. The sun may even shine again one day. I get to see my mother next week (and provide her with possibly the worst overseas holiday of her lifetime).
Problem: I worry about the future, beyond the surgery. A lot.
What to do? Stop it. The cliches “one step at a time” and “take each day as it comes” are annoyingly relevant here but so far I’ve not been very good at putting them into practice. B is (quite understandably) scared and worried enough about the upcoming surgery. It certainly won’t help to have me banging on about what might come after that.
This has been quite a serious post, it had to happen sometime. But I will go back to writing about trivial things like hats.
Boyfriend with a brain tumour 
As you say it had to happen and I’m sure all very normal. Have you found any (hesitate to say) ‘support groups’ for partners of brain tumour diagnosees? Might help to understand what the roller coaster of emotions might bring and when? Xxx
I’ve had a bit of a look. The Macmillan Cancer Support site and forums are quite useful. Not sure I’m ready to attend a support group meeting. It reminds me too much of Fight Club.
I concur with the Macmillan Support idea. Even if you can just go to talk to one of the nurses, it would be a help. I talk of this from personal experience, after going to be interviewed by one of the nurses, following the discovery that the male side of my family have some faulty gene(s) that pre-dispose us to getting the big C (and that fact has been borne out by the number of uncles/aunties who have had it). If you do go to see a Macmillan nurse, there are no guarantees that you’ll come out dancing with joy, but as they deal with the C word every day, they will have some experience or appreciation of what you are going through, and if anyone knows what to say, they will.
Thanks Andy, I’ve heard good things about the Macmillan nurses from other people too. I’m sure they will be hearing from me in due course.
I have nothing really constructive to say here other than I have stopped myself several times from emailing you with meaningless platitudes that a) I knew would shit you to tears and b) I don’t believe in anyway. The big c is incredibly hard to talk about and I once googled ‘what to say to cancer patients’ only to find the ‘what not to say’ list much more helpful. Hence my restrain on platitudes. I’m here to listen and I hope that’s much more useful to you.
I very much doubt you could shit me to tears sis. You and everyone in the family have been great to us so no need to worry on that score. I’ll call you tonight! xx
I would recommend getting all the macmillan booklets, there should be shelves of them in oncology. Very useful and they guide you every step of the way and cover everything x hope this helps!