So we got through the heavy chemo, the fatigue, the broken hip, the mastectomy, the pathology reports.  While everything about those 8 months was grueling, we hit every goal, finished the treatments, did everything we could, and heard the surgeon and oncologist say “cancer free” and I had always imagined there would be this whoop of relief and the little, dark cloud hanging over us for the past 8 months would drift away.  That’s how it is in the movies at least.  But collectively there wasn’t that moment for our group.   Ever enthusiastically go to high five someone and have them just stare at your hand.  So you move the hand a bit in case they didn’t see it?  And then there is an awkward pause while you take your hand away and wonder what to do next?  

As we got closer to the date of surgery mom was struggling with increasing anxiety.  We all were. And that’s very much to be expected and normal.   Even after the “all clear” after surgery, mom was still struggling with anxiety, unable to relax into that well earned sense of relief.   Mundane obstacles became stumbling block.  Day to day tasks were overwhelming.  Hopeless phrases were uttered containing words like “never” and “can’t”.  It was confusing.  We would have expected it a long the way, during the treatment, but not after.  Anxiety has a funny way of muddying the water.    

Let’s say you’re preparing to take a test.  And you’re nervous.  You sit down to take the text and immediately are nauseous. Is it anxiety?  Or did you happen to get the flu at the same time you were going to take the test.  If you stop being anxious will the nausea go away?  If it is the flu should you leave now?  Can you leave now?  What do you say to the teacher?  Should you just hurry through the test so you can leave?  Or will that cause you to fail the test?  Each thought loop repeats itself but with more intensity and larger the flame of anxiety gets.

She had some physical symptoms that she would call me about and I’d have to sort out things like…is the sudden rash from anxiety or is it the beginning of cellulitis or an infection? Is she not hungry because she’s getting a stomach ulcer or is she just nervous. 

I couldn’t put my finger on what  THE ISSUE was and why she wasn’t taking her victory lap.

There was a point in one conversation where we finally had a peak into each other’s thought processes.  I said, “why the anxiety and the gloom?  I don’t get it.  What are you wanting to do that you can’t?  You aren’t dead/dying?  Why aren’t you bouncing back?”  Her response was,  “I never really thought I’d die, but I’m not the same person as I was before all  of this.”  

It was such a pivotal moment.  For her as a patient, for me as a care giver to use for the rest of my career.  I was so focused on what I thought my response would be at this point in this situation that I lost sight of asking her for her perspective.    We were all experiencing her as mother, wife, grandma, friend as we pretty much knew her.  Yeah, a couple battle scars and a cane for a bit longer, but we had her.  She was grappling with who she was before and how much had changed.  I can imagine this is reminiscent of what military families go though when a soldier returns from harrowing events while deployed.

I googled “post cancer depression” and “beating cancer but still depressed” and there was a lot of helpful information to read through.  We still had some legwork to do, but once that communication clicked into place, the nose dive straightened out.  She’s been able to meet with a counselor at the cancer center and started some anti anxiety medication and has the overall general awareness of how PTSD after a trauma works,  how to mourn the parts she lost, how to get back in the game, how to celebrate what is and not get stuck in “what should be”.

As I said earlier in the post, I didn’t want to post until we were on steady ground.  As of today everything is good. Of course it’s a process, but the trajectory is out of free fall and we’re climbing again.   When we talk with her we hear the mom we recognize.  She’s been amazing these past couple weeks. Willing to put in the hard work.  “Willing to be an active participant in her recovery.” )That’s a phrase I use when writing nurse notes if the patient is engaged, working with us and not sitting in bed letting themselves fall into the abyss of despondency and expecting the nurse or CNA to do it all for them.)

As a side note.  She’s had faithful friends and amazing support.  This was not a result of lack of support, or any shortcomings of those in her circle. We will always reach out if there’s anything we need from her village.  This was a road block that was going to be hit at some point in order for there to be mental health recovery along with physical recovery.

We are happy to report that the attached pic is a selfie she took while practicing driving in her neighborhood for the first time since she broke her hip!  She was practicing so she could start going to garage sales.  If you know her, you know she loves them.  She’s more and more independent each day, and jumping back into what she enjoys doing.  

There’s more to report on the last portion of the oncology treatments, but I’ve rattled on long enough.  I’ll give you a break for now. 😉

Thank you again for being her village.

Marti, for the Dahlquist/Murray families ❤️