I know my life will never be the same again. I will not ever be well or free of chemo and treatments and shots and blood counts and bone marrow biopsies. I have slowly become used to my new way of life.
PUBLISHED May 31, 2018
Jane has earned three advanced degrees and had several fulfilling careers as a librarian, rehabilitation counselor and college teacher. Presently she does freelance writing. Her articles include the subjects of hearing loss and deafness, service dogs and struggling with cancer. She has been a cancer survivor since 2010.
She has myelodysplastic syndrome, which is rare, and would love to communicate with others who have MDS.
She has myelodysplastic syndrome, which is rare, and would love to communicate with others who have MDS.
One of the hardest adjustments to accept after any type of loss is the never ending, always present, gut wrenching feeling of grief. Whether it is the loss of a loved one, the loss of a home after a fire or tornado, the loss of a job or a mourning of one’s health - grief is there. An excellent article on Family doctor.org states that even the loss of a pet or a change in one’s life such as retirement or moving causes sadness. Both family practitioners and oncologists are realizing that the loss of health is a huge factor in grief and depression, and of course cancer qualifies.
But when does grief end? Recently I heard one of my friends talking to another one who had been recently widowed. The widow had just described a beautiful ceremony involving the spreading of her beloved husband’s ashes. The first friend asked “Are you OK now?”
I looked at her in amazement as did my friend. I wanted to shout, “Of course she is not OK – it has only been a year. She is better, but will always mourn those years she lost her husband and missing out on watching the grandchildren grow up together.”
But when does grief end? Recently I heard one of my friends talking to another one who had been recently widowed. The widow had just described a beautiful ceremony involving the spreading of her beloved husband’s ashes. The first friend asked “Are you OK now?”
I looked at her in amazement as did my friend. I wanted to shout, “Of course she is not OK – it has only been a year. She is better, but will always mourn those years she lost her husband and missing out on watching the grandchildren grow up together.”
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