What are the right questions?
It's a well known fact that hindsight is
20/20.
Whilst growing up, we were never really taught
how to question things, it just wasn’t done. We never questioned Teachers,
Professionals, Doctors, Parents…if you did, you were "precocious". Or just a little shite in the eyes of authority.
Things just happened, and we just did what
we had to do. No questions asked.
And it may sound silly but this way of
life, deep down, continued into my young adulthood. You just didn’t ask questions!
Or rather, the RIGHT questions; of course we questioned Human Rights, Wars,
World Famine but never anything that directly involved one’s own self. You just
trusted the Pros. And believe me, I trusted the Pros. Am I alone here?
Now, many years later I want to question
the system. And maybe you should too.
I’ve always tried to write with honesty and candour but there are things
that I realise I haven’t said. Not
because I didn’t want to, but maybe
because my “hindsight” has become more in-tuned with my age (FUUUCCKKKKK) yep.
Dare I say wisdom? No, but looking back, I could’ve/should’ve asked more, demanded
more, dared more. This is/was MY body, my mind, my soul, why didn’t I ask more
about it? Why didn’t anyone let me? Ahhhh… because they were “The Pros”. Well bugger
that for a game of tennis.
The fact is, dear reader (and I hope you do
more than I did) is that we don’t ask enough. Looking back on my blog, I
realise that I have spoken about the actual MOMENT that I was sick, and not about
the years leading up to it. The MASSIVE
alarm bells that were there. The utter CONFUSION, COSTS (mentally, physically
and economically) the FEAR. The FEAR of not being taken seriously, of being the
Drama Queen (that’s still there though, some things never change). Of losing
control. I’ve spoken before about mental health in all this yet I’ve had to
really force myself to examine those early years and it has hit me like a horse
in full gallop. I feel duped by my own
non-awareness and now the veil has been lifted and I’m astounded that I was so naïve. Moi!
And looking back on it all, even after my
treatment for Cancer, I didn’t ask enough.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love my doctors and I owe them the luxury of
being able to write this today but damn it, damn it I didn’t ask enough and
damn it they didn’t tell me. I wasn’t prepared for the AFTER. I wasn’t prepared
for these feelings. But I thought I was. I wish that some little chap had taken
me to one-side and whispered “ok, Rach, great news, treatment is over, now, I
need to give you a heads-up on the total mind and body fuck that is going to
happen over the next few years…”
The struggle is real but it can be helped.
And I’ll be back soon with the how, the why
and the everything.
I just need to find that little chap……
