I like to think that my attitude is pretty good. I know it is not above average, and I know, at times, it needs a lot of work. Just ask my friend, Peggy Sherry. But recently my attitude has decayed to previously not seen lows. At times I feel bitter. It seems so many people with new and old cancer diagnosis flourish in their faith in God and Humanity. They take on a certain grace and strength and fortitude that leave the rest of us wondering, or saying to ourselves, I honestly don’t believe I could take it that well. Not even that- take it well, but rise above and see even stronger, kinder, gentler and more graceful than ever before. Six hundred and sixty days is a long time to fight cancer. It’s not just been that long since I was diagnoses, I’ve had active disease for that long and I have either been recovering from cancer, or been in Chemo for 90 percent of that time. And I am here to tell you, a person gets tired of the pain, the weakness and in the inability to do anything fun and challenging. I believe I have become bitter and angry and it is beginning to show. I stay to myself more that I used to, and I used to stay to myself a lot. If I can’t put on a genuine smile, and engage another person with at least a little genuine lightheartedness and happiness, then I’d rather not burden them. I simply must break this development. Last evenings Relay for Life brought me a long way up and out of that gosh forsaken funk. When I arrive at the event, I saw a football field and facility filled with tents, camps and booths, lights all around and hundreds of people walking around the track in support of cancer research and cancer patients and I laterally had to sit down and cry – happy tears. I am not, and never have been alone. I don’t know if my hart has ever been more warmed by an event such as it was last night. Most of the people there I did not know. But I know they were there because they’ve been affected by this hideous disease, cancer somehow, someway. Others I know well. I saw many of my nurses, doctors, pharmacists and social workers. The smiles and genuine happiness to be there was so incredibly apparent – those smiles sear brands upon my soul and I don’t think my cancer experience will ever be the same. What’s interesting, this came at a time I was feeling most alone, cutoff and isolated in my own battle with cancer. Just the day before I made a surprise visit to my oncologist’s office. I didn’t know where else to go. I went in, knocked on the sliding glass window of the receiving point, and the lady, recognizing me, and knowing I didn’t have an appointment, I could tell she was confused as to why I was there. I simply asked her if there was a nurse, or anybody who could talk to me for a second. She graciously checked and found a lovely nurse who could spare a few moments. She took me back into a room, and I explained that I had never felt more depressed, defeated and frightened. The young woman listen to me explain how depressed I was, and she seemed unsure as to what to do. I mean, a person coming in with an issue with cancer itself, she knew full well how to handle – but an emotional issue seemed to be something she was not quite as used to. Bless her heart as she disappeared and came back with advice for me to see a mental health specialist. I am sure she was confused: she knew that I had been through four surgeries and two separate chemotherapy programs. After 660 days, you’d think as I sure she did, that I had long resolved any and all emotional issue to point of functionality. For some reason, I was just having a very low spot and could not shake it off. She was a great help in an area that she just as easily left me to my own devices. I left there with my horrible depression and despondency fully intact, and I moved through the next 24 hours like the metal ball in a pen ball machine – banging into obstacle’s at random, avoiding removal of the playing field from some unknown power in control of the flappers. That is, until the moment I set foot in that football stadium. I saw hundreds if not over a thousand of my fellow human beings all together with one theme – cancer. And at that moment, I know I was alone like I never knew I wasn’t alone. I’m not necessarily sorry for my attitude recently. I don’t believe anybody can remain positive all of the time with a disease that takes them completely away from ALL of the activities they love, and a disease that will likely kill them relatively soon. But I am by no means the only one who is affected by cancer. There are thousands and millions of us. Each of us have our own way of dealing with it, well, bad or however. The important thing to know, the important thing that I relearned last night at Relay for Life is that I am not alone, despite how it feels. I may lay in my room, in my home where I live alone. I may be totally immobile with excruciating pain, and hopelessness, but not even then am I alone. If you are unaware of what the American Cancer Society does for those affected by cancer (patient, families, and friends) look it to it. It will brighten you day. If you never supported the ACS, trust me when I tell you, it is one organization that truly does help people and it seems to me, as unlikely as it seems, they do so flawlessly. May God Damn Cancer by blessing the American Cancer Society and all of those who fund it’s many many functions.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Jun 2013 11:38:13 +0000
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