National Health Fund
I have this weird outlook on life. I call it weird because everyone else believes it is. The outlook is simple. We are born, we live, we die. That’s it. Fanfare happens in between. Some of us have it great and smooth, others have it bumpy and the rest of us are bitter sweet or sweet bitter. Whatever our circumstances are one thing is certain, death.
Some of you may already know that my mother, a few years ago, started her fight against breast cancer. The truth is I don’t know much about this fight because I only know what others have told me or what I gather whenever I called. What I can say truthfully is that chemotherapy is a strain on your pocket, you lose your hair and weight and National Health Fund is in no hurry to place Herceptin on their subsidized drug list. You can do so much and no more if money runs out. After that you pray it stays in remission.
Shortly before Christmas 2013 my mother started complaining about pain she’s been feeling and the fact that it is getting worse. Its not just surface pain that a little pain killer eases, this is some deep down racking her pain. She did a bone scan and the results showed that after a year of no chemotherapy, the cancer is in her bones. I don’t know what that means in the eventual.
So here’s my problem and I guess others may or may not share this, what to do when others are surprised that I am not crying uncontrollably, tearing my hair out, running around like a fowl without a head, being by her side every waking minute and calling like credit don’t cost money. I’m uncertain as to why any of that is necessary. I like to have the facts, I want the doctors to say something that makes sense to me. Something like, Mrs. Lewis you’ll have to do another 6 rounds of treatment to place this in remission, or Mr. & Mrs. Lewis start putting your affairs in order we don’t know the minute or hour. That I understand. That tells me how I can help. That is concrete, no state of limbo.
I came to terms with death a long time ago. After death there is nothing. Some believe that you are reincarnated, others believe that you roam the earth. I, don’t care. But why are we on death? Why is the thought now that she’s going to dead? She’s still alive. I’ve learned in my short time on this earth that faith can move mountains and prayer heals everything no matter the outcome. Either way, she is still here. I do not feel the same way you do. I am not capable of feeling what you feel neither do I believe I should be feeling how you think I should be feeling. I do not have the same relationship with my mother as you have with her. Whatever unresolved issues my mother and I have is irrelevant now.
When you ask me “how you doing”? My answer will always be I’m good. I’m well. I’m blessed. Even if there are tears pouring down my face I am still doing better than many others and I am still in a better place than my mother, physically and emotionally. I do not understand nor can I even begin to imagine what she is going through. We all have our cross to bear one time or another.
I’m not bitter. I’m not cold. I’m not in denial. I am angry, because this disease is rather inconvenient in more ways than one. It doesn’t affect one person, it spins and pulls us all into this dirty vortex that I don’t want to be in. It’s spiraling to a place I don’t want to go. I’m doing things I wouldn’t otherwise do and speaking to people who don’t speak to me under normal circumstances. If I’m this perturbed by it I can only imagine how my mother is feeling having people at her home doing for her what she use to do for herself. It sucks! On all levels.
I will end with this though. I am grateful for the family and friends who have been there from before and are still here now. I appreciate you for doing what I am unable to do, emotionally and physically. Your presence is and will always be a blessings to my family and I thank God everyday for you.