The Diagnosis , Cancer

Learn how I beat Depression

Dedicated to a very special sister

Anyone who has ever been diagnosed with a life threatening condition will know how devastating it can be to be told you are seriously ill, and more often than not you are told by a hard faced doctor in a cold and clinical environment far away from the comforts of home. Those who have been through this will also understand how on hearing the words that no one wants to hear the joy of life is snatched away in one brutal instant.

For us it all really began on Friday 21st November 2008. There I was sat in the hospital waiting room with my sister Louise. The tension was incredible; however, we both knew what potentially awaited us beyond the corridor in that forbidden room with the door firmly closed.

Eventually Louise was called in by herself and I waited, and waited, and waited. It seemed like an eternity before the door finally opened and my name was called. I knew. In I went and sat holding my sister’s hand with my heart beating frantically as I braced myself for the inevitable news.

I wondered how I would cope, how she would cope, how we would get through the following minutes, hours and days. I know it was only a fleeting thought but time seemed to stretch in those few semi comfortable seconds before the words were uttered that would change all our lives forever – “I’m sorry to say the tumour is cancerous”.

You hear the words and yet you cannot react. I sat there and listened to the doctor telling us the awful news that my sister had breast cancer and hearing her utter “yes”, and “I see”, and “ok” after each terrible sentence that spelled out the cold facts, how the treatment would go, what she was to expect, she was only 37 for God’s sake. First she would undergo weeks of toxic chemotherapy, then she would have surgery, and then she would have radiotherapy. Why on earth they call it therapy I just don’t know, to me the word conjures up images of something comforting and healing, but this was pure poison and to make it worse, Louise was already sensitive, and indeed allergic, to relatively bland chemicals like washing up liquid.

I wanted to cry. How could I cry when she was sitting there so brave? I felt sick. How could I be so selfish as to feel sick at a time like this? I glanced at Louise; she was pale and shaking but incredibly together. I loved her so much.

Unbelievably, we managed to have a few laughs as we left the hospital or should I say she managed to muster up a few jokes that elicited a half hearted laugh from me before nerves took after and I laughed almost insanely until the sobbing took over and I’m ashamed to say, it was Louise who comforted me.

It was the worst moment of my life, or I thought it was at the time.

Learn how I beat Depression

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