Thursday, 3 October 2013

Disconnected


It has been a strange week.  Hard to think now that eight days ago we were a family untouched by cancer.  Now it has invaded us, all of us. My mum might play the fiercely reluctant host, but somehow it has crept into every pore of us too.  That’s what cancer does; that’s what we must try hard to not let it do.  

I have been so moved and touched by the support from people in this community; for the tweets, messages, comments; for people who have shared their own experiences; for people who sent me messages to say that they have nagged friends and family members to get themselves checked since reading my last post.  Thank you so much. 

I saw mum on the weekend, it was her birthday.  I hugged her so tight, and tears fell as the rain does now.  She whispered, “I need to see what the children will become.  I need to see what they will do.”  

And that’s what she will fight for.  

People have asked how we are, how I am, and it is good and kind of them, and I need it as an opener because I find it hard to reach out.  Yet I feel guilty as I almost shrug in response and say quite honestly “I really don’t know”. Because I don’t. I’m not hiding away or being rude, I just don’t know how I am.  I am both numb, and every emotion all at once.

Somehow I feel as though I am watching the world around me rather than a part of it; as if I am in the audience of my own life.  I am strangely disconnected.  I have conversations with people where I hear myself talking, and wonder who is speaking.  

I think this is the shock working its way through.  

I have tried to put it into a poem, but I fear it is just as jumbled as my tired mind.  Hopefully it makes sense, and if it doesn’t we can just pretend that that is how it is meant to be, can’t we?

Disconnected

I listen but cannot hear,
I look yet barely see,
I touch but cannot feel
I’m disconnected, I’m not quite me.

I am watching life unfold
From Row D, seat number 4.
But I should on the stage with you,
Not here like an onlooker, acting unsure.

Then you smile, with eyes of mischief,
My broken heart you start to glue.
Then you laugh, your front tooth missing,
Hold my hand, show me my que.

For it is you who we will fight for,
It is you who will see us win
And while you may well be the trophy,
You are also the medicine.

So I’ll put your smile into my pocket,
Hang your laughter round my neck, a shining gem 
Until I play my part up in the spotlight
Until I am connected once again.


Thank you for reading.  There are other, much more polished, poems over at VeViVos for a special National Poetry Day Prose for Thought.  

xx

41 comments:

  1. I've been there. This poem makes perfect sense to me. Sending you so much love and strength as always xx

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    1. Thank you Jen - that helped me a lot xx

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  2. I've also been there. You're not alone.
    Your mum sounds like a fighter and you sound like a supportive daughter. That's half the battle won.
    Beautiful poem, I understand every word....
    Sending you and your lovely mum lots of love and good vibes. xXx

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    1. Thank you Tracy. Yes she is going to fight, she just seems so very small at the moment xx

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  3. I know exactly what you mean, that feeling of disconnection. It's been over twenty years but I still remember exactly how it felt. Sending strength xx

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    1. Oh Sara. Thank you for understanding xx

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  4. Those gap-toothed smiles are the best medicine for all manner of ills. Sending you love and best wishes. x

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  5. Lots of love to you your family and you mum x

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  6. A beautiful post and a fabulous poem. All makes perfect sense and you're no doubt in a world of shock. You're allowed to feel disconnected lovely, sending you loads of hugs :)

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    1. Thanks Charly, it helps to know I'm not losing my marbles! Hugs gratefully received xx

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  7. Bless you my lovely, I have been thinking of you and your horrid situation. Strangely, awful times such as yours can be a remarkable time of connection within families. I do hope that you and your mum find a special bond in what is otherwise an awful circumstance :( A lovely poem, very moving x x

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    1. Thank you Suzanne, yes times of difficulty can pull you together so closely as a family. That's what's happened here, although I'm so close to my mum anyway. But yes, nice to see the positive xx

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  8. I am so sorry to read your news. I somehow missed this last week. What a dreadful time for your family.

    Beautiful poem. The last stanza in particular.

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  9. Your words are a perfect description. I understand completely as that's exactly how I felt. I couldn't have put it as beautifully as you. Huge love beautiful. Thinking of you xxxx

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    1. Oh Kat I'm sure you could! And it's nice to know I'm not completely barmy... xxx

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  10. awww honey, I am so so sorry to hear about your mum and that undoubtedly your are all hurting. Although words wont make you feel any better i am sending the biggest hugs x

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    1. Oh Jaime - a hug means such a lot. Thank you xx

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  11. Its beautiful Elizabeth. I really identified with the bit about watching from the row when you feel like you should be on the stage with her. That's just how I felt with my Mum. And the children will be the best of medicine to pull you (all) through. Thinking of you, and your Mum xxx

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    1. Thank you for understanding Helen. That feeling of remoteness isn't easy is it? And yes, I'm planning on bottling the children's smiles and laughter :) xxx

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  12. So sorry you and your family are going through this, it's a horrid thing to deal with. xx #pocolo

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    1. Thank you - it is sadly, and there is just too much of it about xx

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  13. I know that strange feeling of disconnection. I think we do it as a way to cope with the shock. Sending you lots of love and hugs xxx

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    1. Yes, I think you're right, it is the mind's way of coping. Thank you for your love, hugs and for your support xx

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  14. These words are so beautiful lovely, I particularly the trophy and medicine lines. I truly believe that her children and Grandchildren are what gave my Mum strength. I feel sure it will be the same for yours. Thank you for linking to Prose for Thought xx

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    1. Thank you Victoria - its amazing the strength they give us isn't it? xx

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  15. You body and mind are looking after you. Be safe in that knowledge. Your Mum is looking after you because that is what the best mums do no matter what is going on with them. Hugs for what they are worth and we are all allowed to be children sometimes.

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    1. Yes you are right Kate. Wise words from a wise lady xx

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  16. Beautiful, beautiful words... your mum's birthday must have been a bitter sweet experience for you all, and of course you are in shock after such devastating news. My thoughts and good wishes are with you. X

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    1. Thank you so much. It helps so much to know people are thinking of us xx

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  17. xxxxxx hun to you and your mum xxxxx

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  18. So sorry to hear this, sending all the love and strength I can to you and your family xxx

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    1. Thank you Laurenne. That means a lot xx

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  19. Sending hugs your way, and to your family and good luck to your mum.

    My mum's 5 months down the road, and I still feel quite like this. My brother's there all the time but I just feel I can't really do anything. Hope you get some positive from the diagnosis.

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    1. Thank you Emma. How is your mum doing? Sending you hugs too, it is so hard isn't it? xx

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  20. Beautiful, brave poem. I haven't been where you stand but I have experienced deep shock over a diagnosis and I too felt like a powerless bystander, watching the action unfold and waiting to be guided by medical heroes. Trusting them, too afraid to think further than that.
    Much love and strength to you all.
    Hayley

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