cat at the beach

Yesterday I read this article called Can You Handle 24 Hours of Solitude? … and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to do this. In fact, it’s taken some time to get used to being alone on holiday here in Zahara. I know some of you think this is like a dream come true, but I came here not just to spend some time at the beach and take care of Mini – it was also a personal challenge. I really wasn’t sure how I’d feel being on my own for a whole ten days. And now it’s day four …

Well, the first day or so I was mostly settling in and getting things organised in a comfortable way. It was really great when I finally got the music set up, hooking my iPod up to Agustín’s speakers. Before that it was just too quiet. And I’ve been going out every day. Usually a walk along the beach and bathing my feet in the sea. My feet have really been bothering me, and have been getting worse. I think I’m getting a common delayed side effect to the chemo, which is neuropathy in the hands and feet. Both (well, all four) have been feeling painfully numb the past while and now the skin is starting to peel off the soles of my feet … ouch! And the balls of my feet feel like dead blocks of wood. Well, if dead blocks of wood could feel pain. But I’m making myself walk no matter what.  And I have to keep flexing my fingers to keep them from seizing up – they mostly feel worse when I first wake up.

That’s kind of the scariest bit about being here alone – being two hours away from the nearest city hospital. As some of you may recall, I had my port flushed out a couple of days before leaving for Zahara. Well,  I not only threw my back out that day (and again yesterday!) but since then I’ve had some pain in the port area and also some shortness of breath, though I guess that’s been happening for awhile now. The point is – what if something went very wrong and I’m here alone and there’s no hospital close by? It seems I haven’t got over thinking of myself as a sick person.

So I am trying not to feel like a sick person, or worry about dying and all that. But it turns out that a lot of the stuff people do on holiday is kind of what I’ve been doing all this past year  or so whilst recuperating from operations or going through chemo. Sitting around, reading, being on the internet, going for walks … not having any real direction or purpose. Okay, I’m doing it in different and quite lovely surroundings, but having the hand & feet thing and also my back in such pain it almost feels like the same old thing. Like I’ll never feel well again. Like maybe this is going to be my last summer … I just get so scared sometimes, you know?

And I think that’s why I was concerned about going away on my own. I think I was afraid about being alone with my own thoughts and where they might take me without the usual day-to-day distractions or, like in Málaga, someone to hang out with and do stuff with. But I was also curious about what would happen without those distractions. And so here I am.

Don’t get me wrong. I am totally loving the apartment, that fabulous terrace and the views, walking down to the beach in the mornings, figuring out where to have lunch, taking ridiculously long naps, reading, watching DVDs, chatting with people online … all of that is really terrific. But I can’t seem to stop feeling afraid.  I know it’s not just about the cancer, because I reckon I’ve woken up feeling afraid almost every morning of my life. It’s just that I normally have my usual routines and distractions – and cats! – to focus on. When I only have ME to focus on it all starts feeling a bit much. Especially with all the cancer stuff and these new chemo side effects, and my back giving out on me just before I came away … I guess I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed about taking my life back again.  I’ve never fought so hard in my whole life as I have this past year and I worry that it’s taken all my strength away and I won’t be able to get back on my feet again. And most people don’t understand that finishing chemo doesn’t mean you are suddenly fine. It takes ages to get all that shit out of your system. And then every three months it’ll be waiting to hear if I’m still healthy or if the cancer has come back again. It’s not over, you know? I still have a lot of work to do on my “new normal” and learning how to live with that.

Anyhow, I’m sure rambling on here. But I do think it’s all good. That I came away on my own and am going through all these feelings.  And knowing all you guys are out there and getting the emails and staying in touch … well, it’s helping a lot. It’s just that sometimes I really do wish you were HERE.

*hugs*

Add to FacebookAdd to NewsvineAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Furl