Hello, I could use some cyberfriends right now

I have Stage IV cancer.  And, I often think this is much harder on my loved ones than it is on me.  I feel sick but I don't really remember what it's like to feel healthy and I feel guilty that my partner has to do so much that I used to do.  I know that when I am gone, I'm gone.  I won't be left with the aftermath of grief, having to pick up the pieces of my life, raise my child alone, do everything that he will have to do.  I do not expect him to be always strong (although he is) and I think whatever happened between you two is completely normal and understandable.  I'm sure she knows how hard this has been on you.

You didn't say you do this, but I have a really difficult time with people who won't acknowledge my death.  Far too many say, 'Oh you'll be okay" and brush it off.  I know it's because they don't want to think about it but the truth is, I have come to terms with it and need to talk about it.  It's a gift to me to do that.  Everybody does not need to approach me positively but honestly. 

I have written a blog detailed my experience, which is in my signature.  The vast majority of the blog centers around humor.  Much of this crazy experience is so funny.  But, now that I am where I am, I am more contempletive.  I've found that most people don't take too kindly about death jokes when they are likely to be real.  

What you should do around your partner is be the same person you have always been.  There is no need to put on a mask of positivity, there is no need to pretend that she'll be okay.  Be yourself for her.  She will still need you to be strong, in that cooking, cleaning, driving, etc might be things she can't do anymore.  But sometimes being emotionally strong means breaking down. 

PPM - I cannot speak to the experience of being Stage IV myself.  I am currently undergoing treatment for Stage 1 BC but (as is often the case) it was a complete and totaly surprise for me - and especially my husband, who is my partner, best friend, and rock of Gibralter.  In some ways, this has been harder on him that it has been on me - I endure the treatment, and he picks up the pieces of our lives, doing double-duty while also trying to maintain his own life and sense of normalcy.  He never cried when I was diagnosed (we knew before the surgeon gave us the official dx, long story); he never said a word when my treatment changed drastically because I have a high metastatic recurrence rate; he never flinched when our MO used the phrase "when" not "if" it returns. 

He decided early on that he needed to "take charge" to take the pressure off of me - but he failed to tell me he wanted to/was doing this.  He tried to protect me from others; he tried to protect me from himself and his feelings and his fears and his worries.  I knew instinctively this was happening, but when I tried to approach him about how he was feeling and what he was thinking, he often said little or nothing.  He was - still is - an invaluable source of support to me as I often struggle through treatment and decisions and life-altering moments.

I believe there are certain things we instinctively know, and when we're open to that knowledge we can move forward.  I knew I had cancer from the moment I found my lump, even though everyone around me assured me I was over-reacting.  I knew that my Onctotype score would be high and would put me at high risk for metastatic recurrence, and my doctor confirmed this by saying she'd never seen a score "that high before."   So when I told my husband over dinner one night that I knew this will be my future, he finally broke down and we talked.  And talked.  And talked some more.  And he shared his fears with me, his anger and frustration and all that he had been holding in trying to be strong for me, trying to protect me.

But in that moment, his vulnerability did more for me than anything else he had ever done.  His honesty and authenticity gave me permission to be scared, to be true and honest, to be vulnerable myself.  That moment gave me - and him - a sense of freedom we have held onto ever since.  It brought us closer together.  It gave us the opportunity to acknowledge our reality.  It strengthened our relationship in a way I wish we didn't need, but am grateful for.

I am sorry for what you and your partner are going through right now.  It is completely unfair, and it sucks, and it shouldn't be like this.  You didn't screw up - you were honest, and that's so invaluable during this time.  Ihope you continue to reach out, to talk, to share, to be vulnerable when you're able.  I wish you both luck, love, and peace.

Nancy

I am both a cancer patient (early stage) and the daughter of a current cancer patient (IV ovarian) and the friend of a current cancer patient (late stage lung cancer).

good heavens, OF COURSE YOU BROKE DOWN!!   You cannot underestimate the stress you are going through even though you are not the one with the cancer.  it is IMPOSSIBLE in my humble experience to be positive and upbeat all the time.  It is NORMAL to be scared and frightened and even a bit angry about where you find yourself--this isn't the life you and your partner were expecting.

I also think that the honesty is good--remember you are there to support each other, right?  Its hard to be truly supportive if we aren't being truly honest.

I am getting through it all by remembering that I can't take care of anyone unless I take care of me.  I see a therapist regularly.  It was she who pointed out--quite correctly--that my mother's cancer was not an immediate death sentence and that I needed to gear up for the long haul.  And truly in most cases these days, it does seem that people diagnosised at Stage IV live longer and longer.  This means we as supporters have to be ready to deal with much stress for a long period of time.

So I vent on a few threads with different groups. I have some sleeping pills that I take if I get more than 3 sleepless nights.  And I have surrendered to going back on an antidepressant for now.  If I could find the time, I would got to the support group for caregivers.

So now you have this thread and our permission to vent away and PM us but while cyber friends are good, a real in person support group for caregivers is also good.  Check out your hospital and your local Gildas club (not just for ovarian cancer, for cancer in general).  And maybe a therapist who is familiar with what things are like for cancer patients and their families.

Many hugs. 

Welcome to a realy exclusive group: the human race I think it is really important to have a safety valve in your situation, and I really think you have to take care of yourself as well. If you don't, you can't take care of others very well.