Is anyone here?
Sorry…. it’s been a while since I have had the energy or concentration to sit down and write, edit and hit the publish button for a post. I would like to claim I have been spending this abundance of time, sitting down around the pool with a cute cabana boy and a martini in hand. In reality, I’ve been working 60+ hour fortnights and dealing with the consequences of being a Registered Nurse in a world pandemic and working with the elderly in the community.
As for my personal life, most of my days off from work have been spent running after a nearly 18 month old toddler (where has time flown?), structuring the perfect time to go shopping to minimise the risk of infection from Covid-19 and further developing the bond with my sister. Being a homebody and someone who enjoys staying at home with a warm coffee and a book open, I have taken this opulent time to not only reconnect with my younger siblings but also wrap my head around some rather personal and private matters that have been affecting me greatly.
This past months have been spent secretly dealing and coming to terms with my Mum’s breast cancer diagnosis. Something of which, the diagnosis has severely rocked my world and forcibly closed a chapter in our family’s book because life will never be the same as we know it. While we have grown up with treating Lois like a delicate flower and asking for permission to hug her because some days are beyond painful for her. Thanks to her ever-present Lupus. But this cancer diagnosis has and always been a whole new level of wtf.
Privately, I have also been struggling with the guilt associated with feeling like I should’ve driven Lois to her doctor and asking for him/her to check this lump on her chest. Something of which, I have been feeling for the last two or three years and all of us, thinking it’s a pulled muscle or scar tissue caused by the Lupus. Not knowing really, there was something horribly sinister growing under the skin and it was merely a ticking time bomb. Having said this, I’ve also had to come to terms with the fact: I potentially saved Lois’ life by attending one of her appointments and making a comment about the lump to her doctor.
This time away from Eliza Darcy and blogging has been spent coming to terms with the knowledge of there being an appropriate time and place to be a nurse. Also, when it is required and needed to completely embrace rather than being fearful of being an advocate, support person and most importantly, a daughter.
With this in mind, my final words for this post are: