Be Brave
Well, let's be
honest, never wanted into this tribe. Who does? Saw what it did to my sister.
She died. Close to six years now. Different kind of cancer though, and I've
been told since my diagnosis with breast cancer that my cancer is the one to get. Compared with many cancers, mine can
be easier to beat, curable. So hey, I got the right cancer! I'll take that to
the bank. My sister Sheila had a cancer like Terry Fox, more aggressive and not
curable. I have pretty good odds. I'm a fighter. But seriously, who isn't. If
you can't go 100% all out to save your own life, not sure what kind of quality
of life you had?
When I first
found out, I immediately thought that yes, of course I was the next one to go.
It's amazing how lightning fast you go to that terminal side! The old cranium
was not my best friend. I honestly didn't think I'd be dealing with this at 52,
but had to admit that I did get five more years on this earth than Sheila did,
so was fortunate right? Did I really think I was special? Deep down I secretly
hoped I was. I'm a pretty healthy girl; eat right, visit the gym a few times a
week. But there was that small voice in my head, a voice that I successfully had
drowned out right up until that day when I was sitting in my doctor’s office. That
small voice turned into a roar. A new element entered the room, the 'genetic
makeup' that is mine and mine alone. This element doesn't really care how many
hours I put in at the gym.
After my
initial diagnosis, I was not on the friendliest terms with my thoughts. They
kind of turned on me. Doubt and fear, doubt and fear were the
deadly duo. It took Sheila, why not me? This was the absolute worst part of
my journey, but happened for a relatively short time. You go to places that are
bleak and desolate. You imagine this new unwanted visitor going everywhere, new
aches and pains crop up, imagined or unimagined, who knows. You get desperate
to know the truth in order to act before it's too late. I felt close to
hysteria many days. Then the results started coming in, and I was always amazed
each and every time a test result showed it didn't spread. This was astounding
to me and brought me close to tears each time I received a call. The phrases "all clear" and "didn’t spread" were instantly magical. Had mini celebrations, I
was so, so grateful. Surgery relieved me of this unwanted visitor. Slowly
started coming out of this high state of alert. Breathe again.
After the last
few months I see my journey veering away from the sheer drop. I believe that I
may just come out of this. There were many days where I couldn’t get close to
my glass half full gal stance. After optimistic
test results and successful surgery, I am able to. My renewed outlook and the many
lovely people along the way brought me there.
You always hear
about the crap when you start dealing with cancer. The pain, fatigue, tests,
more tests, chemo, losing your hair (yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.) The last
yes was the hardest. Didn’t realize how much I was defined by my curly red
hair. I had a good cry before my husband buzzed it and softened the blow with a
cold brew and some Pogue tunes. Went back to keeping my eye on the prize and
moved on. It's all a journey into the unknown while you scramble to keep a
semblance of what you used to know. My old life changed on a dime, and yes,
moved on without me. Imagine! Seriously, how could this happen? But it does,
and this awareness set me free to look in different directions, meet new
connections. Trying to keep up with a new life can be both empowering and
humbling. And many days hiding seemed like an ideal solution. I could have went
under my bed and stayed there. I had a Maine Coon named Ollie who used to do
that when ANY man came to the door. He would eventually come out when the coast
was clear. Sometimes Ollie would manage to get into the sofa. He would find a
little opening underneath, and like a flash, make it MUCH bigger. I would see
his eighteen pound trembling body sagging to the ground under the sofa. He
looked like a massive cocoon ready to emerge. I didn’t hide under my bed. I
chose to answer the knock at my door. I one-upped my Big Olls.
You get much
closer to the people you love. You beat through all the bull, and know why they
are all shiny lights in your life.
You see why they are so beautiful, flaws and all. As far as being a mom, my need to have my opinion heard and advice
followed is not on the radar anymore. I do hold valuable experience, even
wisdom some might say. I’m certain some of my gems have taken hold, and will
continue to do so down the road. They will figure it out, make their own
mistakes, and weather the bumps. They’re smart cookies. Those bumps are character
builders right? I now choose to be their buffer against the harshness of the
world instead of their constant compass. I feel lighter.
My girls left
for University shortly before my news. Saying this was a blessing in disguise is
an understatement. I have such gratitude
that they didn't witness this beginning and most vulnerable stage. Going
through it honestly, even selfishly, without trying to protect them from this
desperate out of control time was a gift. My husband provided me with space to vent
and rage, without judgement. The "for worse" part of our marriage was
greatly tested and he really kicked it. His quiet strength gave me strength. My
friends were a constant source of hope and humour. Seemingly small messages
were anything but. Good laughs and good movies were my greatest distraction. My
sister came in like a whirlwind from out west, and saw me at my most desperate.
Pain does that. I reacted to everything through a fog. Having her go to these
appointments with me and remembering
what occurred was a good thing. Chemo takes your taste buds and messes them up.
Family and friends dropped off warm food which warmed my heart. They really
rocked “it takes a village”. My
daughter left me words of encouragement that I found after she had gone back
for school. “You are my inspiration, my voice of reason, my best friend, my
teacher, my guidance, my love and support.” Sigh! There’s a gem.
Cancer brings
clarity. The essence of who you are shifts. It’s a good thing. When I thought I
may be living with a possible expiry date, there was no time for strife or arguments
with others. The strife happened within. Now, if I don't see eye to eye with
someone, that's okay. I let it go. Seriously, who in their right mind is going
to argue with cancer lady! Directing all
my energy towards positive interactions and getting up in the morning and
facing one day, not more. Sounds simple and it is. There is no room for any
kind of strife, other than the chemo related strife. Have to conserve my
energy. It's not a matter of having an argument, or negative interaction; it's
a matter of choice. I value the act of listening. Gratitude is my daily mantra.
My long term
philosophy is easy. After much painstaking time spent on why and how I ended up
here, am letting go of that. That doesn't matter anymore, it's here and I have
to figure out a way to live with it, and then live without it. And I will live
without it. I know, I know, everyone says that, but when I learned it didn't
spread, that it was for the most part removed, I breathed again and thought
okay, it's one LEG on my journey, not the end of my journey. It stopped me in
my tracks, scared the living shit out of me, made me re-evaluate everything I
had learned in my 52 years on earth and then left me in its' wake. I am a
changed woman, changed for the better. Everything is richer, more vibrant, and
I have gained clarity that is safely tucked away for act two. I will take these
gems, keep them close to my heart, and go on. That's my plan.
