Picc Line Out


Today was a day where I wept, I literally cried most of the day.  The uncertainty of the future ahead of us is frightening.  I worry that we, and in particular that I, won’t be up to it.  Two days ago I had the confidence to work with my husband in facing his battle against cancer, but that same day we were required to make a decision about his future treatment.  The two options that we discussed with the Oncologist yielded almost the same outcomes when trialled. The statistics offered weren’t compelling enough to justify staying on chemo treatments.  It seemed obvious that with care and diligence we could figure out a way to stave off or at least try to stay ahead of the disease.  When we walked out of the hospital that day, after my husband had his picc line removed – instead of feeling elated we left feeling totally unsettled.  We wondered whether we had done the right thing?  We had the choice to continue on a treatment plan, should we have?

Today we talked about what we are both feeling.  It feels like our support has been pulled out from under us, that we have lost the big machine (the hospital and its supports) and that we are now entirely on our own.  We will make all the decisions, there is no medical team meeting to discuss how to proceed.  It’s just us.  Who are we?  What do we know?  The anxiety is frightening in its intensity.  It’s all well and good to say we’ve got a plan – but is it the right plan?  There is a life in the balance here.  As the primary caregiver am I up to the job?  The sense of responsibility is almost too immense.  What if I miss something, some symptom or indicators?  Obviously I fell short in this area before, I mean he was Stage 4 before he was even diagnosed. I know that it’s not my fault but should I have seen something?  Friends and family will react to my questions, but they’re honest ones and it is how I feel.  I will do the best that I possibly can, but what if it is not enough?  This is not a “poor me” blog, it is a reflection of my state of mind.  I feel a tremendous responsibility. I take nothing for granted anymore, I can’t afford to.  But I am afraid.  I know that fear is destructive but to deny that fear is foolish.

My saving grace today was a site I found on line that made me remarkably normal, although it’s small comfort to know that experiencing this range of emotions makes me “normal” when I feel like I am broken.  It is, however, a great resource which I will continue to reference when in doubt.  There are answers and there are suggestions, but there are no one size fits all solutions.  http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/coping/life-after-treatment

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