Taken on the day and a few hours before this all started. How apt.
To think I’ve been living in my new world for a whole month now is baffling.
I’m not going to lie I really do miss elements of my old world – the freedom, the independence, the responsibility, the ability to put some order to the chaos and most of all the ability to look after my baby for a whole day on my own. Not having these is hard and totally debilitating.
And maybe realising it’s been a month has been a contributing factor to the rollercoaster of the past 7/8 days. The trauma of the MRIs was awful but then the joy and peace in France more than made up for it. I then had to come back to trying to manage the chaos of my life followed by a 3hr neuropsychological exam which was so intense it takes me half an hour to describe despite the brilliant way it was handled. Seeing old friends the next day was a true delight only to be shattered by dealing with a very odd neighbour keeping us up all night. In short it has all left me utterly exhausted.
It’s also made me feel like Jekyll and Hyde. Some days I’m literally bouncing with positivity and humour and other days I’ve got such low energy I can barely smile. On the latter days I completely break down at any negativity directed at me even if it’s minor and not personal. I just feel too fragile like a paper-thin glass ball being thrown around as if it was made of rubber.
I know that’s normal and you can’t be positive all the time considering everything I’m having to do. But it would make life a little easier for me and everyone around if there was a little more consistency to work with.
I also think the closer to the surgery the more anxious I’m feeling. Again understandable. But again it would help if we knew when exactly it was and what they’re doing. Hopefully we’ll get the results of all the scans and tests this week and at least we’ll have a plan.
How odd that sounds, a plan for when someone is going to open up my head and cut something that’s been growing inside me out then sew it back up and wait to see what happens. Will I go back to my old world? Will I look back at this as if it happened to someone else? A different me, a rollercoaster riding, positivity spreading, scaremongering, negativity fearing, buttercup version of me. We’ll just have to wait and see.
Cords, we haven’t spoken in a long while but I’ve been quietly following this with interest. Perhaps because you might not realise but you’re really helping me…
I experienced this from Lolli’s angle when I was 12 years old. Almost the same situation with my own mum (who I might add is still here 20 years later). Everything you have said resonates. And gives me a different perspective of what my own mother must have been going through (I know I didn’t always handle my own emotions well – dealing with this as a pubescent teenager is hard!).
So, I thank you for your candid approach and honesty. It’s teally helped me. If you ever want to chat to someone who’s experienced this first hand, get in touch. And, when the time is right, there are a heap of support groups out there (particularly for the Epilepsy related tumors). You’re doing great and I can tell you from the bottom of my heart this will help your daughter and husband more than you know, not just you x
Wow Melissa what a beautiful and amazing reply to read. Seriously touching and reassuring too. I’m not sure I ever knew this about your mother but I’m so glad she’s ok now. Thank you.
It’s been a long long time (I think?!) but that’s why social media has it’s uses and it’s so lovely to follow you and your gorgeous family as well. Much love xx