Don’t look at me that way.

Turn off that pitying face.

I don’t want your sympathetic stare.

I want you to see ME.


Don’t tell me you know.

Nobody knows.

I don’t want you thinking you do,

when you don’t.


Don’t say I need help.

I’m coping.

I don’t want you assuming I’m helpless.

I can cope fine.


Don’t think I’m like them.

They’re near the end.

I don’t want you thinking I’m with them

when I‘m far away.



Don’t talk about it.

I don’t want to listen.

I do want it to be normal.

Just like before.

9 thoughts on “Denial

  1. Until I read your response to Helenes comment I thought it was about you. I empathise; three or four years ago I had alopecia – almost half of my hair fell out. When I walkied down the street I often saw people glance at me pityingly – they assumed I had cancer. It was a horrible feeling to be seen as a cancer victim; even more so as it made me feel like a fraud.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It must have been strange for you. I remember when my son was in a wheelchair temporarily after fracturing his foot. He was also treated differently. My mother-in-law struggles with the Steroid puffiness of her face and people not recognising her. We just got told she only has a few weeks left so she’s not in denial any longer. I’m not sure if denial or acceptance is best.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Hospices encourage acceptance – but they have experts to give them the best back-up.
        The first time I heard of a child making detailed plans for his funeral, I felt as if I was going to break in half, but, although it leaves a huge lump in the throat, I think there is something beautiful about it – and it must help the grieving family to know that their child left this world with a minimum of fear.
        Your family now has the opportunity for open discussion. Pretence can be agony to maintain. I hope your mother-in-law’s final weeks pass well for her.
        I had a friend who had cancer when he was in his early 40’s. I asked him “Are you going to survive this?”
        He replied “I don’t know. If I do, it will be great, but if I don’t it will be an adventure.”
        He died. Remembering those words was consoling.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks for your response Jane. Heartbreaking as it is, it must have been a comfort to know the poor child and your friend weren’t frightened. I do think we’re conditioned to focus of getting better and shy away from death. She texted me today to tell me she’s happy and had a good life. We’re making plans for time off work to look after her at home for a few weeks. Thanks again.

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s