One year ago: I had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and was trying to absorb the reality and decide what to do. I had been invisible for so long. After the diagnosis, my family and friends suddenly realized that I exist. The sister I hadn’t spoken to in six months was suddenly very caring and concerned. Even distant cousins sent me cards and emails.
Then it was over. Surgery successful; no chemo or radiation. Yippee. Then everyone left and I was invisible once more.
Then my dad lost his battle with cancer. Two months he’s been gone. I wish I could be where he is. Wish I could live in an endless garden of pansies.
Instead, I’m back to being invisible. Back to my miserable isolated existence. I hardly talk to anyone about anything meaningful. There is no meaning. I’m back to not speaking with my sister. When I told her I was depressed and wanted to die she accused me of being melodramatic. I’ve never been been able to share my true feelings with her.
The only reason I’m still here is I don’t want to hurt my mom. But I feel I am fading away. . . Becoming more and more invisible. . . Maybe eventually I will just disappear.