I know it’s not my fault but I feel guilty. I know I didn’t cause this. I never dreamed of developing a cancerous tumor in the center of my chest. I never wanted this. It’s not my fault but I feel guilty.
I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, that which I can see and that which I cannot. The latter pains me more. I can’t see it, and I fear that most of your pain is indeed invisible. It’s dormant, and you may want it to stay that way. And even though I know that I didn’t cause your pain, I’m sorry for it.
To all those close to me, I’m sorry if you are hurting. Your are hurting. I love you and you mean the world to me. I know it’s not my fault but I’m sorry.
Sometimes I forget you as I lose myself in my own thoughts, fears, and pains. How I dare forget you?
I’m sorry for this deep pain that grips my body and our lives. I can only hope that it goes away, that the treatment works, and that we live happily again. I’m so sorry. I wish I had control over the happy, over your pain, my life and death.
When I ask, “why me?”, I think of us, but the chemo overwhelms me. Cancer, death, your well-being, the nausea and fatigue, uncertainty, lack of control, fear, pain, weakness, tears–it all overwhelms me. I wish I were stronger and I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to go through this even though I know you would take my place. I’m sorry. I know. I know it’s not my fault and I love you, but I’m so sorry. You mean the world to me and it hurts to know that you’re in pain because of me. It hurts more than the cancer. It hurts so much. I’m sorry, but I love you.
I’m sorry, too that you feel that guilt. It’s part of a grieving process. It’s okay.