Moving and Changing: Navigating Its Challenges
Our choice to move brought challenges
While moving was a thought-out and mediated choice, there have still been bumps, expected but no easier to endure. We've faced new marital stress, the pressure of bills, parenting a young child through a big move, and the overwhelming news of possible cancer growth.
Cancer progression and accessing quality care
Location changes have brought difficulties in accessing care that feels compassionate and high-quality. We've struggled with hospital policies that now mean my partner faces appointments alone and unsupported. We've faced progression before we even felt like we had our feet fully on the ground in our new space, something that felt extra terrifying after moving far away from our support system and our well-known and well-loved medical team.
The uncertainty that comes with progression can be stomach-turning. For the last 2 years, everything has been mostly the same, and the idea of a change in treatment lines, side effect changes, and even possibly growth leading to surgeries left me spinning. It all feels too soon, too fast after moving, but cancer doesn't take a break just because you moved.
Stage 4 cancer and finding a job
My partner has struggled to find a job that fills their cup while managing a stage 4 cancer diagnosis. It would seem not many potential employers love the word "cancer." This has left my partner feeling discouraged and unwanted in a society that doesn't make room for the chronically ill. While, of course, my partner is amazing, some people won't dig deeper to find out who they truly are, and people judge what they don't know and don't understand.
What is my role as a caregiver?
I feel a little unneeded as a caregiver. With my partner attending appointments without me and in a wait-and-see phase of treatment, I feel a little like I'm not doing my job as a caregiver. I feel that I am less needed and, thereby, less of a member of our family.
While I know that this isn't true, it's easy for these feelings to creep in. While getting a job seems an obvious choice, I again run into scheduling and childcare issues, and we risk losing the benefits my partner receives. I'm not willing to fight against these things just to fill my days. We are also in the final months before our daughter goes to school full-time, and I don't want to miss this time. These final months before those little kid days start to fade.
Who am I when I'm not a caregiver?
While we knew moving somewhere new would present new issues, I didn't expect it to feel so alienating. Finding a new place in the local community is hard enough as a queer individual, let alone being a queer member of the cancer community. Even meeting in person can pose a risk for those who are immunocompromised. Maybe the most heartbreaking part is that our daughter has expressed feelings of loneliness, pushing us to decide to send her to school this upcoming year in hopes that she can find community at the loss of a dream of homeschooling for my partner and me.
Cancer has taken so much from us: our home, some of our dreams, and, at times, even my mental peace. I never expected it to rock my sense of self. For me to truly question who I am and what my purpose is. Lately, the new question I'm chasing in my mind is, who am I when I am not being my partner's caregiver?
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