Cancer and Mood Changes
Monday, 21 January 2019
Did you ever wake up in a bad mood that affects you all day? Was it a dream that caused it? Hormones? Something you ate? Who knows?
Other times you can – sort of – identify the cause: you're frightened about something or worried or sad or unhappy for reasons that are generally obvious. Aside from chronic depression (which news stories tell me is widespread), dark moods eventually lift and we move on.
Nowadays, since I was diagnosed in October with inoperable cancer, I can easily identify the cause of black moods: it is the aftermath of chemotherapy, those days when I'm physically unwell that produce grim thoughts and feelings.
That's when I become convinced I will die before the day is out, before I have finished notes for my healthcare proxy and beneficiary to help her find all the information she will need.
It's when I imagine I will die before anyone thinks I will and lie rotting in my bed until someone wonders where Ronni is.
It's when I can't read or watch television because my deep, dispirited mind tells me there is no point to doing anything because I will be dead soon.
Yes, I know I have told you about how much I believe death is part of life, about how curious I am about these last weeks and months, and how lucky I am to have this have time.
But I also have days with dreadful thoughts that drag me down below where I think I can ever crawl back out again.
At the time, this always feels more real that the good times - until...
Like Saturday morning when the chemo fuzziness and fatigue lift and I'm a normal person again. (And no, I don't need any advice - I'm just reporting the weather from the frontier.)
Storms can lessen in ferocity or even blow over — weather changes — frustratingly unpredictable at times. Positive vibes heading up the Coast!
Posted by: joared | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 06:02 AM
No matter the "weather" on your "storm front," I'm always glad I read it.
Posted by: JeanR | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 06:19 AM
Thanks for keeping it real Ronni.
Posted by: marilyn epling | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 06:48 AM
Yep, looking UP at the snakes. Grrrrrrrrr....Love You.
Posted by: Nancy Lindgren | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 07:49 AM
❤️ glad the storm passed and some light returned. Peace and love to you. Your honesty and ability to express this is very helpful to me and I am sure others.
Posted by: Andrea | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 07:49 AM
Ronni, thanks for sharing your thoughts honestly. They are helpful, appreciated and a gift those sharing your thoughts but don't or can't give voice to them. Warm hugs.
Posted by: Priscilla Wright | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 07:52 AM
No advice - hopefully no one would dare!- just appreciation for your honest description of life at the frontier, Ronni.
Posted by: Maureen Adams | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 07:54 AM
(((xx)))... so hear you xx
Posted by: SM | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 07:55 AM
I guess it's not just our moon that waxes and wanes...
Posted by: Daria | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:01 AM
Weather. Changes. Thank you!
Posted by: Robin Moorad | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:07 AM
No matter how much you know by reason it ain't so, what's happening right now often feels like how it always was, and how it's going to be forever.
This is a general truth about how our minds work. It applies to both good things, and bad.
My seas appear to have been calmer than yours, Ronni. I have swells and troughs, no breaking wave crests. Perhaps that's because I am further from the shore? Or perhaps I am in a different part of the metaphor-ocean altogether, and my weather is not ever going to be as stormy. I don't know. I won't know until it happens.
Posted by: Sylvia | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:09 AM
Churchill used to call it 'the black dog' - I hope that he moves away for a while soon and lets the light i. -mixed metaphors, i know, howeveralso genuine thanks for your honesty.
Posted by: Carla Bowman-Vaughan | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:10 AM
I came across this from poet Mary Oliver that fits: "Attention without feeling is only a report."
You always give us feeling, which is what makes you so special to us.
Posted by: Jean Gogolin | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:13 AM
Thank you, for your honesty in sharing this last trip with us. I don't often comment, but I read your blog with the interest of another fellow traveler on this plane, knowing that at some point I too will face the same emotions as my time here ends.
I hope I can face my ending with as much courage, honesty, and love as you have shown us.
Thank you for being you.
Posted by: Janice Vuich-Cawyer | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:15 AM
You sharing your experiences is a gift! Thank you and know we are thinking of you.... make sure you have a great play list of music!!! With healing and grateful thoughts from Michigan
Posted by: Patti Dudek | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:15 AM
Speaking of moon, the dazzling red moon laid itself out as the day approached to honor a fiery, brilliant and wise man.
I try to figure them out and manage maybe 1 in 7, which disappears quickly and forever when not written down at the moment.
Posted by: Simone | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:20 AM
Ach! "figure dreams out..."
Posted by: Simone | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:21 AM
Love you, Ronni. Thanks for keeping it real even as it reaches the uncomfortable lows, too.
Posted by: Norma | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:25 AM
Ronni, I have decided, after studying your blog page banner, that I like the picture of you fourth from the right best. You look to be on top of your game there (stage and age unclear to me). Your current situation often draws me to your banner contemplating your life's stages and it is fourth from the right that is most interesting--to me. No advice from me today--JUST THIS!!
Posted by: John | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:53 AM
That's my 40th birthday, John. A long, long, time ago...
Posted by: Ronni Bennett | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 08:59 AM
virtual hugs to you my friend. Blessings and love.
Posted by: Susan L. Pope | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 09:37 AM
Darn, I somewhat foolishly had harbored hopes that the psilocybin trip had put you in a continuous happy-connected-with-the-universe-and-it's-all-good place. Well, of course not. Still, my heart is with you. Babies, ancients, saints, and the dying, should, by all that is fair, be exempt from suffering. Wishing doesn't make it so.
You are a light. Much love to you.
Posted by: Salinda Dahl | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 09:39 AM
I second Susan.
Hugs and love!
M
Posted by: Marilyn | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 09:43 AM
Yes I have those days Ronnie although the grim reaper isn't knocking as loudly on my door as he is on yours. Awful, aren't they. However, I some time ago stopped worrying about my dead body being in my bed until the maggots are creeping out from under my apartment door. That really won't be MY problem!
I hope they pass quickly for you - I expect just describing them so well will help kick them gently out the door.
Take care and be good to you!
Posted by: Betty Bishop | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 09:44 AM
Acknowledging your courage, commitment and honesty. You are the real deal and thank you for your leadership.
Posted by: TheaT | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 09:50 AM
Just noting I'm here and thinking about you always.
Posted by: Susan R (Pied Type) | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 10:14 AM
Thank you for your reportage. Thank you very much.
Posted by: Lisa | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 10:29 AM
Hooray for the sweet relief when it passes.
Posted by: Heidi | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 10:36 AM
Dark days are perfectly understandable. Peace and love,
Posted by: Darlene Costner | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 10:40 AM
Nothing to add to all of the above. Love to you. Thanks for being honest. Thanks to all of you on the list for your honest and thoughtful responses. What a fine community you have made, Ronni.
Posted by: Anne | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 11:03 AM
Ronni, your words are so honest and loving, and I draw tremendous strength from reading your blog every week. Your musings are about a journey we all must travel.
Just saw this article in The Atlantic; it might interest some of your readers: "How Do People Communicate Before Death".You are communicating with us through your insightful blog, for which I am so grateful.
Posted by: Liz Blunt | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 11:16 AM
Thank you for your posts...I know I will be on this same journey at some point.im a pancreatic survivor as of now....what you share is so invaluable to me. Hugs . Kisses, and peace.
Posted by: Glenda kimsey | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 11:20 AM
Thank you. We are all a part of your legacy.
Posted by: Elizabeth Rogers | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 11:31 AM
These are the thoughts that would have me seek out a roomful of kittens or the unmitigated glee of several two year olds.
Posted by: Perspective | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 12:25 PM
I am almost three years since my cancer diagnosis. An immunology drug has ben very successful and I feel fine. No depressions. The chemo before that did not work very well. I am grateful and keeping busy, as always....even planning some travel. I know everyone is different. I wish you well
Posted by: ellie greenberg | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 12:46 PM
Thank you for keeping it real. I'm sorry that some days "real" is so dark and miserable. Some days life just sucks.
Posted by: Cathy J. | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 12:53 PM
Ronni, nobody will ever leave your side long enough for anybody to "wonder where Ronni is".
The dark side can take over, but never will for you. You are the guiding
light and pioneer for too many.
Posted by: Bernie JMW Fleming | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 01:28 PM
Ronni: I know I do not comment often to your posts, although I have been reading your posts for quite some time now, but after reading this one, I just had to comment on your last paragraph and hopefully it will bring a smile to your face. It is the part where you say "and I'm a normal person again." First thought that went through my mind was Ronni Bennett....normal..... ? Where did Ronnie go?
Hopefully, in my own twisted way, I brought a smile to your face. Until next time!
Posted by: Irwin Lengel | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 01:39 PM
Thank you
Posted by: karen Stevenson | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 01:55 PM
Hugs, more hugs and extra hugs.
Hugs all over the place.
From us to you.
A million fans can't be wrong.
Posted by: doctafill | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 02:47 PM
You're a good weather(wo)man.
Posted by: Rosemary Woodel | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 02:59 PM
You continue to teach and challenge. Thank you.
Posted by: Carol Albright | Monday, 21 January 2019 at 06:30 PM
I'm just a pebble tossed into this stream of comments, sending my own ripples on the surface, and guessing that there may be some waves going into the depths too. Being normal is such an occasional gift in my life too.
Posted by: Barb Rogers | Tuesday, 22 January 2019 at 06:01 AM
Your openess is such a gift to many of us who may be facing this sooner than later. Thank you and glad the sun has come out again for awhile. Peace.
Posted by: Robin Winters | Tuesday, 22 January 2019 at 04:04 PM
Write until you cannot. Even if it is one sentence. Not for us, but for you. Wishing you calm.
Posted by: paula | Tuesday, 22 January 2019 at 07:19 PM
Love.
Posted by: Janet | Monday, 28 January 2019 at 06:34 AM