Christmas was roughly 6 months since diagnosis. I'm still plugging away, making appointments, collecting information, assessing alternatives, hoping a follow-up MRI will show no growth so I can relax into watch and wait status for a while.
It was also 6 months since I told my close family and friends about my diagnosis, and quite frankly, the amount of support I've received from my nearest and dearest has been pitifully limited. Four of my five closest friends became instantly distant and uncommunicative. Two of them didn't even reply to my email for 6 months (oh thanks - they manage to muster a few words of concern just in time for Christmas)! They've avoided all contact with me for the past half year - despite the fact that I do not want to make my AN a focal part of my life or interactions with others. I would just like to be able to do normal things, like spend time with my friends, have a laugh at things, share our experiences - the usual kind of thing you do with friends. I'm not in the habit of making myself a burden...
My hubby is doing the typical man-thing and focusing on supporting me in practical issues, feeling completely at a loss and over his head in the deep end when it comes to supporting me emotionally. That's mostly fine, since I do manage most of the time, and I manage with enough emotional energy to help him through the rough patches and our kids too.
I have one friend who has actually continued to connect with me as closely as ever and who asks me about it, demonstrates concern, and is willing to listen. Like I said, I don't want my AN to be the focus of my life, and she totally *gets* that, and we mostly talk about other stuff and have a great time together. In fact, most of our conversations don't even touch on my AN - they're just about connecting and caring about each other and being friends. (Of course, she's the friend that lives halfway across the continent.) I also have my acupunturist, who is really wonderful - a very knowledgeable man with both eastern and western medical training and a PhD. He is a great resource and I can bounce things off him and get a well-considered response complete with things to consider, and he's very aware that there's more to me than just a tumor.
I have to avoid talking about it with my mother, because she has a tendency to focus on worst-case scenarios, building them up and stressing me out completely. If I talked openly with her about my AN, I'm sure I'd die of a heart attack within the next year - she winds me up that badly. LOL!
And that's it for the people in my real life.
Made me feel really grumpy at Christmas. Hard to feel like being generous or loving or connecting with people who've taken my emotional support for years, but run like scared chickens when it's time to return the favor. And that, in turn, makes me wonder what they heck I've done with my life? Have I tossed all that time and energy at the wrong people? What have I been doing wrong when I've been choosing friends?
I knew I was taking a risk when I told people about my diagnosis, because about 9 years ago I lost a lot of friends when I had a metabolic disorder (hyperparathyroidism) and required surgery. I found out later that someone had got it into their head that I was *minimizing* what was wrong with me. They assumed I was dying of cancer and wanted no part of that. And they gossiped about that behind my back and most of my community took their word for it and ran scared. But my closest friends all stayed true through that time. They knew I was being open and honest. And when people finally came to trust that I wasn't dying of cancer - after two years! - they started coming back into my life.
So when I was diagnosed with my AN, I thought back to that experience and I realized that I couldn't just talk about it openly, that I'd scare too many people off. But I didn't realize that I'd scare off the people who've been with me for 10, 20, 35 years!
And I know that I'm not really all that depressed about the amount of emotional support I've been given, because I'm pretty self-sufficient emotionally, and aside from a bad spot here or there, lasting a couple hours at a time, I've really been fine, and all I really could use is a friend to remind me that I'm fine and give me a hug, to get me over those bad spots.
But I am depressed about finding that I hit the limit of what so many of my closest and longest friendships could tolerate. I know I've seen this discussed here on other threads - so I know many of you will understand and have experienced this dynamic too. Can I just yell "Blargh! Pah! Poop!" and get this disappointment and frustration at human frailty out of my system?