Perhaps this isn't quite the right thread to be posting asking for advice about coping emotionally with multiple cancer diagnoses--I imagine the moderators can move it, if necessary?
In July 2013, I moved out of NYC, upstate to a farm belonging to my grandparents. The new place was supposed to be an idyllic retreat from hectic urban life, but instead, living here I have been barraged with adversities.
Maybe the biggest trouble right now is that I have Lyme Disease for the second time in two years (living in the woods, you meet fascinating insects of all sizes, shapes and colors everyday, including ticks) and two common Lyme co-infections, and the bug in my blood is known to cause psychological stress in addition to the physical symptoms.
Nonetheless, it has in fact been an "annus horribilis" as the Queen of England once famously said. December, six-month-old Fozzie Bear died of FIP. Then in quick succession, my beloved grandkitten, 13 y.o. "Gabby," died just short of her 14th birthday from complications associated with hyperthyroidism and chronic IBD; and, then, 13 y.o. "Maggiori" died from complications associated with diabetes and galloping intestinal cancer, which was only detected on autopsy. Maggiori's brother, "Bueno," was diagnosed with a tumor on his mandible, and we went to great lengths to have it removed and have implanted a 3D printed titanium prosthesis (look up Dr. Julius Liptak in Ottawa for more information about some extraordinary surgical cancer interventions now possible). 14 y.o. "Dovey," Gabby's brother, has been diagnosed with adenocarcinoma in two places, his right nostril and left eyelid, and now, Dovey & Gabby's sister, "Sweet Pea," suddenly has a left leg that is increasingly swollen day-by-day and a walnut-sized mass underneath her left armpit. Oh, and when I came back from Ottawa with Bueno and his new jaw, I found calico "Boo" newly dead, under the bed, unbeknownst to my boyfriend who was sleeping there; dead not from the hyperthyroidism we had suspected but, again, from a gastrointestinal cancer undetected prior to autopsy.
All this on top of a house fire in May that flattened my boyfriend's home of 25 years, killed his dog, 11 rescued cats and 1 of elder gentleman of mine, "Eclair," who was there only because the house was a few minutes from the vet, and we were preparing to take him for a vet visit to remove a skin tag.
So, today, I need to find an expert practice that can provide the radiation therapy Dov needs, and whatever treatment Sweet little miss Pea needs. Bueno still has stitches in his mouth and is wearing an e-collar; he gets fed through an esophageal tube.
You know: all these happenings are really stressful! I am searching for a way to cope effectively if not in fact gracefully. All the cats, healthy and health-challenged, need to get fed and medicated every day, the litter boxes have to be kept clean, and we have to be able to go on day to day loving one another and having some fun!
But in the last couple of days, since I've watched Sweet Pea's leg swell and seen her limping worsen while I try to find expert care for her (living on a farm upstate New York 51 miles from absolutely nowhere has its drawbacks!), I'm spending too much time stunned, wanting to weep, unable even to do the dishes (I wish I was one of those people who didn't care about recycling, and didn't have to wash every can and throw it in the bin to take to the transfer station every week--it would save time & energy not to care about the future of the Earth, eh?).
How have you coped with heartbreaking, emotionally devastating situations? What have you learned, so that when you looked back, you said, "If only I knew then what I know now!" What got you through? How did you cope with performing ordinary, daily, necessary tasks, when all your energy went to maintaining a sense of hope for the future?
Thank you so much for your input.
In July 2013, I moved out of NYC, upstate to a farm belonging to my grandparents. The new place was supposed to be an idyllic retreat from hectic urban life, but instead, living here I have been barraged with adversities.
Maybe the biggest trouble right now is that I have Lyme Disease for the second time in two years (living in the woods, you meet fascinating insects of all sizes, shapes and colors everyday, including ticks) and two common Lyme co-infections, and the bug in my blood is known to cause psychological stress in addition to the physical symptoms.
Nonetheless, it has in fact been an "annus horribilis" as the Queen of England once famously said. December, six-month-old Fozzie Bear died of FIP. Then in quick succession, my beloved grandkitten, 13 y.o. "Gabby," died just short of her 14th birthday from complications associated with hyperthyroidism and chronic IBD; and, then, 13 y.o. "Maggiori" died from complications associated with diabetes and galloping intestinal cancer, which was only detected on autopsy. Maggiori's brother, "Bueno," was diagnosed with a tumor on his mandible, and we went to great lengths to have it removed and have implanted a 3D printed titanium prosthesis (look up Dr. Julius Liptak in Ottawa for more information about some extraordinary surgical cancer interventions now possible). 14 y.o. "Dovey," Gabby's brother, has been diagnosed with adenocarcinoma in two places, his right nostril and left eyelid, and now, Dovey & Gabby's sister, "Sweet Pea," suddenly has a left leg that is increasingly swollen day-by-day and a walnut-sized mass underneath her left armpit. Oh, and when I came back from Ottawa with Bueno and his new jaw, I found calico "Boo" newly dead, under the bed, unbeknownst to my boyfriend who was sleeping there; dead not from the hyperthyroidism we had suspected but, again, from a gastrointestinal cancer undetected prior to autopsy.
All this on top of a house fire in May that flattened my boyfriend's home of 25 years, killed his dog, 11 rescued cats and 1 of elder gentleman of mine, "Eclair," who was there only because the house was a few minutes from the vet, and we were preparing to take him for a vet visit to remove a skin tag.
So, today, I need to find an expert practice that can provide the radiation therapy Dov needs, and whatever treatment Sweet little miss Pea needs. Bueno still has stitches in his mouth and is wearing an e-collar; he gets fed through an esophageal tube.
You know: all these happenings are really stressful! I am searching for a way to cope effectively if not in fact gracefully. All the cats, healthy and health-challenged, need to get fed and medicated every day, the litter boxes have to be kept clean, and we have to be able to go on day to day loving one another and having some fun!
But in the last couple of days, since I've watched Sweet Pea's leg swell and seen her limping worsen while I try to find expert care for her (living on a farm upstate New York 51 miles from absolutely nowhere has its drawbacks!), I'm spending too much time stunned, wanting to weep, unable even to do the dishes (I wish I was one of those people who didn't care about recycling, and didn't have to wash every can and throw it in the bin to take to the transfer station every week--it would save time & energy not to care about the future of the Earth, eh?).
How have you coped with heartbreaking, emotionally devastating situations? What have you learned, so that when you looked back, you said, "If only I knew then what I know now!" What got you through? How did you cope with performing ordinary, daily, necessary tasks, when all your energy went to maintaining a sense of hope for the future?
Thank you so much for your input.
