This week has been a good one as far as my pain is concerned. During my bi-weekly visit to my oncologist, I mentioned to her that I had a tooth that was concerning me. I lost the filling and am left with the shell of a tooth (thank you chemo. I didn’t know that chemo could also affect your teeth but then it turns out there was a lot I didn’t know). She decided that we should cancel chemo for this week, have my tooth pulled because apparently there is no other hope for it, and have a few days to recover. She explained that my treatments will still be as effective as planned and in fact some people do not finish all treatments as their body feels ‘done’.
Even though I am finding these last four sessions especially difficlt, painful and beyond exhausting, I want to finish. My whole life, I have been the ‘good girl’, the one who obeys all the rules, who goes the extra mile and does things the right way as far as I am able. I have never questioned why I am this way but have found myself thinking about it quite a bit lately.
Here is what I think after having much time to ponder. In order to explain, I would like to tell you a story about my mom. Actually, there are so many wonderful stories about my mom but this one is pertinent today. My mom grew up very poor in England. Her mom died when she was just eleven years old and she was left to take care of their home and her younger sister. It was a difficult life but I never heard any bitterness from her. During the second world war, she worked in a cinema (movie theater). She was eighteen years old and loved to dance – in fact, she won prizes for great dancing. On Saturday nights, there was a dance held in the town hall and all the soldiers came to the dance. As she told me this next part, it created a romantic picture in my mind. She said, the girls, in their best dresses, lined up along the wall and the soldieers would walk up and down the line before asking a girl to dance. She said she saw my father in his Canadian Air Force uniform and thought him so very handsome and thought, ‘pick me, pick me’. I know for so many this is not romantic according to today’s standards but they were different times. He did pick her and it wasn’t long before they were in love. They married during the war and he went back to Europe and she joined all the other war brides and had what she described as a harrowing journey to Canada. They arrived in Halifax and then had to find their way to their new cities. Mom lived with my father’s relatives until he returned from the war and they moved to Stoney Creek. At that time, they were outside the village and she said she looked around at what looked like just miles and miles of empty land and thought ‘what have I done?’ BUT, she was so happy! They were so in love and so happy. My brother and I were born and they were building their new home. My father was a millwright at Dofasco Steel at the time and she told me that one day when I was three years old, one morning he was leaving for work and I was being cranky. I wouldn’t kiss him goodbye. He made himself late for work waiting to kiss me goodbye. Well, he never came home from work that day. He was killed in an industrial accident at the factory. My mom was now left in a strange land, his family being her only family, no job, a half-built house and I can’t even imagine how she felt.
From the time I was a little girl and I tried so hard to help my mom and please my mom. At a young age, I did chores in the house. When my mom went back to work when I was about thirteen, I came home from school, cleaned, started dinner and ran my mom’s bath for when she returned from work. When I was six years old she married my stepdad and he was a wonderful dad; the one I remember. He was a good dad and as was the case back then, a good provider and partner to my mom but I still felt the need to help her and look out for her.
I hadn’t thought of this nex part until not too long ago. I don’t remember anything of my birth father but I think somewhere in my brain I have a memory of the day he died. We were at my aunt and uncle’s house and all our family were there. I don’t honestly know if I remember this or if I have made up my own story, but I truly believe that someone (or more than one someone) said to me on that day, “you have to be the good girl and look after your mom”. And so I did. My mom was strong and capable but still I felt this need . it also transferred to my beliefs that I had to look after everyone. This is my explanation for my “bossiness”.
Anyway, that’s my rationale for why I always want to do what I’ve been told is the right thing and to do as much as I can to follow the rrules. So when the doctor said that maybe we didn’t need to finish, I was thinking, “oh no, I have to finish”. As it turns out, we are going to continue and I will have chemo this Friday.
I have had this brief respite when I have felt a little more energy, a little more motivation to do things and a little less pain. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a shock to my system after chemo this week. The good news is that this is seven of eight treatments!
As it turns out, I didn’t have my tooth pulled. The dentist tells me that it has had a root canal, can’t become infected but is in such bad shape that pulling it is going to be a difficult challenge. Because healing is slow while your body is having chemo, he wants to wait until I am done. The break has still been good nonetheless.
