Sleeping With Ghosts

You are affected by a life-threatening illness but you are sat on the sofa looking like yourself. Beautiful. But affected by cancer. The chemo reaches your breast milk and you stop breastfeeding Ronja. It hurts me to see your pain. It reminds me of when you were giving birth. I am standing by your side, the pain is painted across your face, and I can’t do a thing. I am powerless. A birth is a physical pain to endure, but at least it is momentary and results in life. This pain is different. It leaves a feeling of death and fighting. Fighting against death in a battle you face alone. It pains me that I can’t do a thing.
From Lasses Diary 

I have breast cancer. My body is shaking. I am crying. I try to get it together. I try to understand. My spirit has broken into a thousand pieces. I cry again and again. And again. I smile at my husband. And my children. But behind the smile I am afraid and unhappy. Destroyed. What will happen? How is the journey of my treatment going to be?How will I manage everyday life? How will we do it? Who is going to look after my children? Who will look after me? Will my hair fall out? Will I die? And yes, I will lose my hair!
From Sofies Diary 

My body can’t keep up. I am shaking. I am still shaking! I’m sore all over. I take part in countless tests, consultations and scans. This week is difficult as I am nervous. Nervous about my test results. I am hoping to somehow feel at peace, when I hopefully receive good results. And hopefully make a good start with the chemotherapy. That chemo must be my friend. Help me. Save my life. Everything seems violent. I feel like I have broken into a thousand pieces and have to be slowly picked up again.
From Sofies Diary 

What thoughts are running through your head? You are so exhausted that we never talk. When you find strength to talk about your emotions, the words and emotions are too strong for us to talk about them. What am I supposed to say to you? I have no idea. You have been through 63 blood tests, 3 MR scans, 14 chemotherapies, 3 blood transfusions, 2 PET scans, 2 admissions, 15 radiotherapy treatments, 45 doctor consultations and 2 operations. And it isn’t over yet. So what can I even say to you? Other than I believe we will be a family again.
From Lasses Diary 

Will the children be traumatised by this time? It frightens me. I wonder how much they understand what is happening. I admire your ability to maintain your role as a mother. Especially on days where they pump you full of chemo. It is unfathomable to see you and the strength you gather, when you with your naked head cradle our daughter to sleep for the night.
From Lasses Diary 

I am hiding these days. I think it is hard. I try to trust that everything is fine and that I am on the right path. I lose all my hair. On my head. My lashes. Eyebrows. The body. My skin is dry and I see it clearly in the form of fine lines and wrinkles in my face. I look in the mirror and I see someone completely different from the one I know. My tears are just under the surface. Small compliments, compassion or attempted understanding make them appear. I feel so alone in this hell. 
From Sofies Diary

The chemo swallows you. It drains you. You fade. I don’t really know you anymore. Your smile is gone and the light has disappeared from your eyes. You are pale and losing your beautiful hair. The woman I love is still here in her physical form, but it is as if your soul disintegrates with the hellish drugs they are injecting into your body. But you are strong. Your body is strong. I hope you will return to our family again.
From Lasses Diary

My bad conscience hits me. I start to lose control. You are so sick and I should be supporting you every single day, but it is hard. I can’t do it anymore. Why on earth doesn’t it take more for me to start arguing with you and the children? I feel insufficient. Too weak. For you. For the children. For our family. I make a hundred bad excuses, but I realise that I am not perfect.
From Lasses Diary

I am cancer free! After a never-ending journey with chemo. I am now cancer free. I start radiotherapy in May. Every day for three weeks. I still have two big operations ahead of me. I am not nervous about the operations. I can see how especially the breast reconstruction surgery will look beautiful. It takes time for the body and soul to get back to a place that feels good and safe. But I am getting there.
From Sofies Diary

After cancer: Nobody can tell how much energy it takes to get through every day. The fear of relapse consumes me. The sensitivity and vulnerability becomes more outspoken. Life gives another meaning. I feel half and try to heal. It is hard to remember. Runaway thoughts. A new identity that no one can see from the outside. Easy to cry. Still very tired. Life has new meaning. To be social can feel overwhelming. Restless sleep. Don’t see myself. Not really. Love more. Afraid. Happy. Seeing with new eyes. Feel more. I could keep on writing. 
From Sofies Diary

I don’t see you cry any more. Maybe it is because we have eventually moved so far away from each other. We said goodnight and then I see your Instagram post about what thoughts occupy you and how much life is hurting you. I actually do understand you. There are so many women out there that have gone through the same as you and it is understandable that you find advice, comfort and a sense of calm among them. I might sound terribly spoilt, but I feel terribly left out. 
From Lasses Diary

It’s odd how little details can make the tears roll down my cheeks. Maybe it is because the bigger picture is too violent to understand and so the small details hit me. Like today when they told you to remove all your jewellery before putting you through the MR scanner. Suddenly you were exposed in a way I hadn’t seen before.
From Lasses Diary

Today you went through your last operation. Instagram is full of happy people dancing at Roskilde Festival. Meanwhile here I am, sat on a wooden stool waiting for you to wake up from the anaesthetic.
From Lasses Diary

Now I think I can really feel what has happened to me. With my body and my soul. My surroundings have moved on, but not me – I am starting to look like myself on the outside but not on the inside. It is best explained as a puzzle with thousands of pieces where only a few have been connected. Am consumed by thoughts, thoughts like “what just happened?”, “where was I before?”, “where am I now?”, thoughts about life, the future, the present, about trusting life, to live life no matter what it might bring, both good and bad.
From Lasses Diary