Helplessness. It isn’t a commonly used word, or commonly felt. It’s one of the strongest feelings, the most binding. It’s a human instinct when something bad happens to do something to make it better. Especailly when it is someone you love caught in the strom. But when you’ve been tosed into the vast ocean of helplessness there really is no escape. You’ve just got to ride the wild waves, trying not to drown in their depths and hope there’ll drag you to shore.
I don’t know what I thought when I was told. I was to occupied on trying to keep it together. Stop the tears battlling to escape glistening eyes for everyones sake. My stomack had been turned into a bottemless pit and all hope faded quickly like dew in the rising sun. In those short few minutes the protective childhood bubble around me was shattered, and there was no repairing it. My heart ached as I tried to process the words but as each one entered my mind another slipped away. I couldn’t make it stick. In a way I wished it was physical pain I felt. I knew how to deal with that. But I didn’t know how to deal with this type. This was new to me.
The world froze and although we were moving around normally, it felt as though we might as well have been chained down somewhere. Unable to move or think. I don’t know what I’d expected, a sad song on the radio perhapes. Something to suggest there was any difference in the world. But it wasn’t like the books or films. There was no rain or wind to match your thoughts and feelings, just sun and blue skies. We’d been ripped from everything we knew, everything was different but it was only when you looked up to the sky and saw the clouds gently drifting overhead did you reliease that the world was still spinning, moving forwards even though you’re sat still, that really does show how insignificant you are.
It wasn’t the absence in the house, nor the departed clicking of the cruches that was the worst. It was leaving the hospital the day before the operation. Walking away, fighting not to look back as every fibre in my body begged me to stay. The only thing that made me able to put one foot infront of the other was the ledge of hope I was grasping on to, maybe a little to tight. A gaping dark hollow waited below me, inviting me into the darkness but (white nuckled) I didn’t slip.
It’s everywhere. That’s the worst part. The part that makes it impossible to escape. Afraid to turn on the T.V or radio incase the big C word comes up. At least some mention ‘race for life’ and other organisations designed to help. That’s something. But help is not what I want. I just want the all clear.