I was diagnosed with BC last October, age 65, and told that it was terminal in February with spread to the bones. All during Covid when I couldn't even have my partner with me when I was told. I'm devastated, i had far too much living still to do and I'm coping very badly with it. I swing from desperate hope to utter despair with little in between. I'm crying, not sleeping, having flashbacks to the time I was told, nightmares when I manage to sleep at all. I'm watching spring unfold and wondering if I shall ever see it again so I can't take any pleasure in it. I haven't even been able to get to my usual escapes - walking on Dartmoor - because of Covid, and treatment has left me utterly exhausted. Letrazole has given me horrible joint and muscle pains. I used to walk for miles on the hills and now it's an effort to walk to the shops.And then there is the worry about how my partner will cope when I die.
My needle phobia which I had learned to deal with has resurged full force which means that walking into the oncology centre for yet mor treatment is a huge effort of will.
How on Earth do I deal with this?