Wednesday, November 14, 2012

The reality of it all

I bristle when the word “gift” is used in the same sentence as “cancer.” There is no upside to having a life-threatening illness. It can ruin lives, friendships, families and dreams, and trying to focus too much on finding a silver lining can trivialize real suffering. I would never have voluntarily chosen to go down this path. But like any other struggle, cancer has changed me. - Suleika Jaouad

I posted the link to Suleika Jaouad's latest blog on my Facebook page. Here it is for those who do not have (or choose not to have) Facebook access. She has been someone I've turned to over the length of my treatment for solace. She writes the words that often roll around in my head, and it brings me comfort to know she is out there, as are so many others, fighting the fight no one should. Shortly after reading it, I learned that Hillary Kind, featured on this year's Stand Up 2 Cancer telethon, the girl with the bucket list including sky diving and meeting Dave Matthews, recently lost her battle with melanoma. She had outlived expectations given to her early on in her diagnosis, but still left this world far too young, too soon.

There are many days - most days - when I put on my happy face to those outside of my house, even though I do not feel the happiness inside. I have to. I have to do it for my own sanity as well as that of those I love. I cannot be constantly scared, depressed, disengaged. But the truth of the matter is a lot of the time I am scared, depressed, disengaged. I am not even 6 months into my battle and I have no idea how long it will last. I have no idea how long this treatment will work before I need a new one. And what scares me the most is that they don't even know what I have. They don't know how best to treat me. It's all trial and error with me, with an unknown primary. Luckily my first treatment plan seems to be working. Platinum based therapies take their toll, though. I won't be able to be on it much longer. I have a limited time right now to try and kick this thing into remission. That scares the hell out of me. The 5-year survival rate on cancer of an unknown primary is not good. Not much better for gastric cancer, which I know the doctors are leaning toward as the ultimate diagnosis for treatment options. Left alone for days at a time, you start to think about your own mortality. Most of those around me are not really ready to have those conversations. So I put on a happy face and talk about the future. What I'll do when I get back to work. Of all the places I'm excited to take Katherine when she's old enough. When I'm able to finish my Master's degree. Things that all take time.

I know that I have a limited time here on earth, be it 5 years, 10 years or 20 years - and I have no idea how to spend it. I don't have the luxury of realistically thinking I will make retirement age 25 years from now. Don't get me wrong, I don't intend to give up. I still have hope and I still have fight, but I am also not going put things aside for 25 years from now at the expense of living for today. I don't have that luxury anymore. But when I think about what I want to do, what's on my bucket list, my mind is blank. I have no bucket list. I'd like to see my daughter grow up, become and adult, get married if she chooses. I want to see her turn into the person I already get glimpses of, and see what remarkable things she will do in her time. That's not really an item you put on a bucket list. But I don't have things like "go skydiving" or "get a tattoo." I'd like to travel, but there is no one place I'd make it a goal to visit. Perhaps the Grand Canyon. I don't know. That seems trivial. The fact of the matter is most of the things I wanted to do during my life seem rather trivial now. It's not about things anymore. It's about time. Time I can't count on and time I can't wait for. People say to me, "You need to live your life. Don't let treatment stop you from doing that." How do you do that when you spend so much of a 3 week treatment cycle sick? How do you do that when you don't have the means or the method? How do you do that when you don't have a clue of what you want to do? Even before I was sick, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was constantly going back to school, learning new things, trying new fields. I thought I had found the perfect mix of my education and my work background, but looking at it now, I think - is this what I really want to do with the rest of my life? Is this my life's work? Or is it just a means to a financial end? Don't get me wrong. I'm not looking for a handout, or a new job, or even suggestions. These are questions in the air. Things that go around in my head when I'm alone. Things Sean is probably tired of hearing me say. Things I need to sort out for myself. No one else. Just me.

Many people I know send me prayers and, while I greatly appreciate any and all prayers given to me or said on my behalf, I'm not one to pray. I'm not religious. I have my own spirituality. I know that sounds trite, but for me it's the truth. I don't go to church, I don't pray - to be honest, I feel stupid praying. I don't discuss religion or spirituality with anyone other than as a subject of debate. I keep my faith private and I will continue to do so. I believe people need to find their own path. I'm still struggling with mine. On one hand, I have faith that good thoughts and prayers do work wonders on the body and in the universe. On the other hand, I don't believe for a second my God would have put this on me or anyone else. When people say God has a plan or God works in mysterious ways or everything for a reason, I want to punch them in the face. No offense. What plan allows a 4 year old girl to lose her mother? Why would God be so cruel? I refuse to believe that is the case. My God is not that cruel. My God knows I know this is not His plan, and He knows I know He cannot heal me (if that was the case, there would be no cancer, because God - like cancer - does not discriminate), and He knows the saying "That which does not kill us makes us stronger" is ridiculous at this point and should be banned from all cancer patients' listening range.  But He also knows I know this is something that will reveal itself to me at some point, my purpose, my meaning, my life's work, when I'm ready. My job, in the meantime, is finding peace with what is going on with me, with the possibilities of the future, with the reality of how my daughter will grow up - whether I'm here for that or not. It has all changed and that is something I cannot change. There are so many possibilities, both good and bad, and all so overwhelming, and it is a big charge finding peace in all that I've been dealt.

I'm still working on it. But I will find it.

xo,
Lisa

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