MY PEOPLE

It’s Nothing But An Act

Fight, flight or freeze… he’s in frozen mode

Today — 5 October 2021 — we went to the hospital for the results of an important scan my husband had yesterday.

A little background

You might have read some of it in earlier posts, but let me give you a brief background on the past eighteen months.

In May 2020, my husband was finally rid of the pain he had in the stump of his left leg since September 2016. Life looked up again, and by September 2020, I had faith that we would get back to where we were before this entire ordeal started.

On the 14th of March, a day after his 56 birthday, he stumbled out of the kitchen, mumbling. I helped him to his chair, and when I saw his face, I knew — he was having a stroke. Within the hour, he was in hospital, stayed there for three nights and returned home. He could use his arm and leg again, but still had difficulties with his speech.

He had a CT scan in hospital, where they saw enlarged lymph nodes in his neck, which he had to have checked out by the GP. That happened a month later. That’s when we jumped on this rollercoaster we’re still on — a diagnosis of metastasized thyroid cancer.

He had an operation to remove the thyroid and surrounding affected lymph nodes, and last received treatment with radioactive iodine to kill the last of the thyroid cells. Yesterday, exactly a week after the therapy, he had the scan, which was supposed to show any other metastases in his body.

The result: not conclusive. Yes, the iodine attached to the remaining thyroid cells, but the thyroglobulin — the tumor marker for thyroid cancer — was too high (6.5 times higher than it should be), and the two together are not good. Chances are there’s cancer somewhere else in his body, and for that he needs to have another scan at the end of the month.

Our reactions

When the doctor said everything is still up in the air, and we have a stressful time ahead, my husband waved it away as if it was nothing. I kept quiet and tried to keep my tears under control. In the car on our way home, he asked me to inform the kids, which I did as soon as we got to our regular hangout for a drink. I fought the tears as I replied to the kids, and some of our friends, while he assured everyone asking he’s not worried, and things are what they are.

Then three other regulars appeared at the bar, and something remarkable happened. Whatever they said, my husband went against it. When at first he did, I thought nothing of it. It happened again, and I frowned. The third time it happened, I realized it was totally out of character for him.

He was lashing out. Where he maintained his cool exterior of ‘things are what they are’, I realized he was just keeping a brave face to the world. Or maybe not the world, but me. He knows me well, and knows I am worried sick, and he doesn’t want to add to that.

It’s nothing but an act

The coach mentioned he might be in ‘freeze mode’, and the more I look at my husband, the longer we are on this rollercoaster, the more I see that indeed he is. He has never learned to express his feelings — the first time his mother ever called him darling, was when I already was with him for months, and she heard me call him that.

Today the realization hit me: his cool exterior is an act. It’s a face he puts up, because he has no idea how to be vulnerable. To express his fears. Somewhere during the evening, I asked him if he understood what the doctor said, if he realizes that there might be cancer somewhere else in his body, because of the value of the tumor marker being so high. He said he did. I know he does.

He’s hiding behind his act, because he doesn’t know how to express himself, and because he tries to make me worry less. I’m supporting him every step of the way, and from now on I will watch him even closer, to help him through those moments of panic he tries to hide from me. If what I read between the lines in the doctor’s words this afternoon, this rollercoaster is about to take us through some loops, so I better grab his hand and keep us both on board!

We will get through this… together.

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