The day after cancer is sometimes as difficult as the disease itself
Personal column
People tend to look at people who have recovered from cancer as heroes who "defeated" the disease, but the truth is much less heroic, and is often accompanied by a crippling fear of the future.
Marian Bunny, who is recovering from breast cancer, tells with painful honesty about the day after
Walla!
health
05/01/2022
Wednesday, 05 January 2022, 07:49 Updated: 08:52
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Once, before I recovered, I was sick.
Once before I was sick I was Marianne, the mother of Tommy and Nina, divorced in joint custody, VP of Creative at an advertising agency. I was Marianne well defined. Every minute of my existence in the world was planned. Even when I declared myself a spontaneous and free type, I was imprisoned in my own definitions It was not that bad, and even served me. I was quite in control of my life, with external aids of course, psychiatric medications, prolonged psychological treatment, and tons of external feedback. I never understood the value of free time, what I achieve in free time - rest, Freedom, disconnection? It's too scary, a waste of time, I'll always be busy, always.
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Then, not against all odds, it happened to me too, a malignant lump in my left breast.
At one moment time took on a different meaning, and from that moment on who controlled my time were the doctors and the fucking lump that I had to get out of my life as quickly as possible and get back in control.
I will not elaborate on the tests, the queues, the waits, the nervous breakdown, depression, uncertainty, helplessness and all the fun that comes with having a small lump that has taken over my life.
My body is damaged now and I may die real soon.
That's the feeling.
The doctors were optimistic from the first moment, early detection, one surgery, some radiation and we were done.
And so it was, one surgery, a radiation program and a few more tests.
My body is damaged now and I may die real soon.
Marian Bunny (Photo: courtesy of the photographers)
After recovering from the surgery I returned to my fascinating and busy work.
Two weeks later came the results of the pathology, and against all the statistics and optimistic expectations of the doctors, the pathology showed that there are more lumps in the same breast and further surgery must be done, marginal cleansing with a 99 percent chance of recovery.
Tests again, this time a little more painful, there is more pressure, this cancer has managed to deceive even the top oncologists and surgeons.
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Second surgery, recovery and again I return to work and life, a little repressed and with a lot of hope that this time the doctors are not wrong, and that the cancer they found came out in full.
The results of the pathology after the second operation came, they were also not good.
The entire breast is bursting with violent cancer cells.
The doctors were stunned, it is very rare that after cleaning margins there are so many cancer cells.
Again medical committees tests, radiation simulations, wounded tactile touches and more tests.
The doctors came to an unequivocal conclusion - the breast must be completely excised.
Boom, third surgery, this time cutting everything, leaving not a single cancer cell.
Lying in bed like a corpse and dead inside
The recovery after the resection was too harsh, the doctors determined that I was at a loss of ability to work and that a long and painful recovery awaited me. They recommended me intensive psychotherapy and lots of patience. Again recovery, again six weeks in which I can not do basic things. Six weeks that I can no longer hug my children tightly. Mom after surgery, mom is recovering, try not to go wild next to mom. No, you can not go to mom's bed in the middle of the night, mom has had another tit surgery, mom can not pick you up, shower you, cook for you. I lie in bed like a corpse, blown up with painkillers and dead inside.
Several months after the resection I underwent reconstructive surgery, the fourth surgery in ten months that also followed, a long recovery.
Avoid anything that activates the chest muscles, even a drop.
Do not write, draw, cook, drive, wash your hair, do not hug.
Ten months of war, repression, pain and loss of control.
Of these six weeks double four surgeries, twenty-four weeks of too much free time and too much pain.
As mentioned, free time is not something that is easy for me with it.
But there is no cancer anymore, so why am I so sad?
It is not easy to meet myself in places that feel more alone than death.
With a sea of support from my immediate environment and infinite love, I feel alone, the most alone I have ever felt.
Thoughts of death accompany me at every moment of this year.
They are always with me, and no legal and illegal drugs, no psychiatric drugs can silence them.
Maybe at this time a new cancer is developing in my body?
Maybe he's already asleep and will take time to find out?
Maybe in the near future I will die, not from cancer at all?
The physical sensations, too, are beyond the pain I slowly learned to love.
Feelings of 330 cc of silicone stuck inside a shell of thin skin, beneath it the ribs, and below the ribs of the heart that I can feel it throbbing as if it is right next to me.
The body feels different.
A work by Marian Bunny from the exhibition "Must_Wake Up" (Photo: Official Website, Marian Bunny)
When I lie on my back the implant presses on the ribs.
When I am on the side the implant is heavy and within a few minutes pain begins.
The left side constantly hurts.
An exhausted mind with a damaged, unbalanced and crooked body.
But no cancer, I'm clean, so why am I fucking sad.
I am recovering from a trauma that my body and mind went through too little time that felt like too much time.
Post-trauma, as it is called in oncology.
I was told, thank God there is no cancer and you do not need it, you will soon start anti-hormonal treatments that will undoubtedly affect your body and your function.
The body is finished, the mind is exhausted.
Sometimes I feel like being hospitalized in a psychiatric institution to pass the time without having to explain myself to myself.
I have not recovered yet, I am recovering.
And I have no idea how long it will take
I'm still trying to figure out how I once managed to take advantage of every moment to be efficient, to be a diligent worker, with lots of work hours. Cook fast meals and also have time to be with the kids. How I was able to lecture, teach, how I found time to volunteer and teach children to fulfill dreams. How I managed to contain the mother I became, with a sea of guilt and mistakes. How I managed to be a good friend and a bad partner. How I sat in the gardens and had small talk with really uninteresting parents. And how I managed on weekends without the kids, to celebrate life, mostly repressed with amounts of alcohol and drugs. How come I have not died so far?
All my life I have been a busy person, always must be in action. And now, when there is no schedule, and there is no client brief, the brief is to survive and pass the time. In recovery I did not fight in time, when I felt I was falling into dark places, I drew, wrote, shared. My paintings, most of which deal with female images, are also going to see a world, somehow there are two exhibitions and I still can not believe I'm part of this thing
. I was exhausted and tired, defined and beautiful. Today I am exhausted and a million times tired, I have not recovered yet, I am recovering. I have no idea how long it will take. Maybe it's time I learned to embrace the existing time without trying to control it.
Marian Bunny - artist, designer and publicist - reveals her works for the first time in the intimate exhibition "Must_Wake Up" at Kopilab in Tel Aviv.
Opening 6/1/22, closing 20/1/22
health
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Tags
cancer
breast cancer
Post Trauma
