Now that the holidays are fast approaching, I want to shout out to all those that are dealing with cancer, any disease or the recent loss of a loved one. My mother passed away suddenly on April 17, 1985. By Thanksgiving, there was only a very small scab on the wound as there is no timetable on when we should start snapping out of it. We were going through the motions but seemed to be lacking spirit, life. I had started my freshman year of college and when I came home for the holidays, I tried to help make Christmas what it was when mom was alive. I made cookies, helped cook, set the table like mom would have partially because it was something routine in a situation that just wasn't and because I thought it would be comforting to have so many of her things around over the holidays. Needless to say, it didn't work out that way. My father was glum. My grandparents sat at the table and cried. Opening presents wasn't the huge thrill it used to be. We moped around the entire holiday, the most wonderful time of the year, and pretty much decided that everything just stunk! It was OK to be Scrooge. It was OK to say BAH HUMBUG! It was OK to mourn over the holidays and NOT be happy. I'm sure the year after Jesus was crucified, Mary didn't celebrate her Son's birthday with a huge smile. She was blessed but still a mom who lost her Son, her child. Don't think God doesn't understand. I'm sure Mary read Him the riot act and did her fair share of asking Why's. I can only hope and pray that you do find ONE thing over the holidays that comforts you, one shred of happiness, one understanding friend that will help you mourn during the "Happiest" time of the year.
I'm sorry this isn't the happiest of updates. At the moment, I am well. I feel well. I have energy and other then the tri-weekly bloodwork, I don't have to worry about scans for another month. I started taking some digestive enzymes, some amino acids that I put in my juice every day, and I added Spirulina, a major superfood to my already vegetable and fruit laden diet. I did a little research on all 3 and feel they can be beneficial. Halloween went great for the kids and I start my CNA class on Monday. Last night, was the orientation. As I thumbed through the textbook, I began to wonder if I could do this, perhaps I had doubts because the first chapter I opened was about bedpans, adult diapers and portable potties but, I am a mom and have changed some really awful diapers in my day. Emily and Cassie's were legendary. That is merely a small part of a much larger picture. I'll be doing my clinicals at a local long term care facility. I have already perused the wanted ads for CNA's at the local hospital and paused at the need for an aide in Oncology. That, I think, is where I would like to work. Two years ago, heck LAST year, I never would have considered working with cancer patients on any level and my reasons were not that I did not have compassion or did not understand. I was afraid of facing my own mortality. I was afraid I would internalize the suffering. I was afraid of hearing something I did not want to hear and seeing something I did not want to see. I was afraid of grieving for those that did not make it. My Orthopedic Oncologist told me that yes, it's heart breaking sometimes but not to let that detract me from the larger picture and that is the human impact, the inspiration and the lessons that can be learned every day. If you look really hard, there are bits of beauty in every story. Focus on that.
About Me
- Kathy
- Most of the time, I'm sitting here raising 2 sassy teens who know everything and a bossy toddler who has the attention span of a gnat. I'm picking out the gray hairs daily. Please send hair dye. In 2006, my already complicated life became more complicated when a large tumor was removed from my upper thigh. The tumor was a Sarcoma, a rare cancer for which mainstream treatment options are limited and few and I was propelled into a world of experimental therapies. I blog here about the mundane intermixed with the unthinkable and continue to work for remission while raising children as a single parent.
4 comments:
Your orthopedic oncologist is a wise man. Besides, only knowing you peripherally tells me that you have so much to offer. Your story is amazing. Your attitude and perseverance equally amazing. And the fact that you could stand before someone in a similar position and just exist is to give them hope in ways far more helpful than words or cheerleading. Your very existence represents that statistics can lie, that people are human and statistics are quantified and calculated but they are not people. And they are not God. You represent the good that is God and the hope that is in His promises. And the fact that you have the energy to share these things with hurting people will be a huge gift. The medical personnel can be slightly removed, perhaps need to be slightly removed. But you can be fully present because that has been necessary for your very survival...to be fully present. You are aware that there are others who suffer perhaps more, others who don't win the war and perhaps should. And you are aware that there but for the grace of God go you. There is no rhyme or reason to the cancer game. If there were, we would all win because we certainly all deserve to win. Maura would have won because of her brilliant talent and unending faith. Jessica would have won because of her youthful innocence and insistent personality that made you just know she would set the world ablaze with her thinking. Jack would have won because his brave little innocent heart at just four years old had so much life in it, so much joy, and would have been so wonderful had it been allowed to be shared.
People don't always live their potential because of cancer. But people live the potential a cancer diagnosis promulgates when it screams to be heard above the fear and heartbreak. There is so much cancer can do to us. But there is so much more we can do because of cancer...because our false sense of security is ripped apart and we learn very quickly how to prioritize our thoughts and beliefs and actions.
You will remind cancer patients that they are winners, no matter what the statistics say, no matter the length of their lives, no matter the unfinished business they have. They win because they run the race...with dignity and grace and more determination and faith than most people live in a minute. They run. They show up. They matter. They make a difference.
And you will be there to remind them of just that. What a privilege and what an honor. And you are perfect for the job.
I don't remember that holiday being horrific... But, then again, I was eleven.
You must not have been in the room when dad said "Let's be honest. The holidays SUCKED!"
and you probably weren't in the room when our grandfather said "It is over. Life is over." while he sat there crying. But there were cookies and....presents....and you were 11 :)
Kathy,
the hallways of the Sarcoma Center at M.D. Anderson are covered with large framed posters of sarcoma survivors of all kinds. There was even a poster of one with "unclassified sarcoma", like Maura, that had metastasized to the liver. I can't tell you how much hope those posters gave us because they were pictures and stories of real people who had walked those same hallways, and survived! And every time we talked to another sarcoma patient who was doing well, we rejoiced, and took hold of the hope their victories represented. As a survivor, you are a purveyor of hope for all oncology patients. Maura and I would have been inspired and cheered to have someone like you take care of her. I hope you get a job in oncology!
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