I have now completed my fifth day of treatment in this strange in between world. A place built for healing, rest, and procedures. And yet, one aspect of this journey has surprised me more than anything else.
The culture clash.
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Sanatorium
So, I have gone away for a while.
Just after New Year’s.I am here now. Alone.
With myself. With my thoughts, my fears, my life.A month on my own, far away from everyone who loves me, needs me, and who grieves me a little all the time, even though I am still here. I have stepped out of their lives for a moment, or what may feel like an eternity, to find myself. Not again, but anew.
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Trying is enough
It is the third day after Christmas.
I thought it would ease. It didn’t.For three days I have been caught in a carcinoid storm. My body is in absolute, wild panic and at the same time completely exhausted. My heart is racing. A pressure in my head creates the sensation of being a ticking bomb, about to detonate at any moment. The flushing comes in waves, affecting my blood pressure, and at times it feels as if my face is about to catch fire.
My entire system is in revolt. And yet I know — I know — that this is physical. A backlash after Christmas stress, too much food and drink.
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NET is like china
As I was waking up this morning, it struck me that NET (NeuroEndocrine Tumors) is like China.
I’ve been to China once. It wasn’t a long stay. A work trip of about a week, with factory visits in southern China and a few days of sightseeing in Shanghai on my way home. But really, I can’t say that I’ve been there. I’ve been to a few micro-fragments of China.
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The day I got my diagnosis
I lie on the bed with my husband.
We wait.We hold each other in silence.
Sometimes one of us breaks into tears—quick, sharp sobs—then quiet again.Time stretches.
And still, nothing prepares me for what I am about to do.The front door opens.
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“Hello? Mom?”
Not Everything Translates 