Ever since I started keeping a journal in high school, I’ve been able to sort through thoughts and express myself better by writing things out. The words flow from my fingers, the manic editing polishes it up, and if the planets all align, I come out with something that’s helped me make some sense of my world. It’s usually a good thing, though not always painless.
Anyway, I didn’t mean to freak anyone out. I hate when people post stuff on Facebook that’s all “poor me!” because it’s so obvious (to me, anyway) that they’re just looking for attention. That was not at all my intention, to be one of those narcissistic weirdos. But I also feel like I should explain what triggered my bummer of a post. I couldn’t write about it last night. I tried, but it was incoherent and rambling and full of improper grammar. It was not my best work. But I think I’m ready now. Here’s how that post came to be…
A while ago, when I asked for pole-dancing pictures from y’all—which I’m still collecting, so keep sending them in!—I linked to a blog in which a woman’s husband had received a “Fuck Cancer!” poster with 240 pictures of Internet friends giving cancer the finger. Since then, I’ve read through her past couple years of posts with great interest, especially those in which she discusses her husband’s cancer fight. His diagnosis was Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma. That’s what I have. Last year he was said to be in remission, and then the lymphoma came back. He tried aggressive chemotherapy and was considering a number of options as of two weeks ago. The last thing I read on her blog was that he was home.
As I browsed through Twitters last night, I happened upon one that felt like a punch in the gut:
califmom: He’s gone. (2:56am April 18)
And that’s when I kinda lost it.
They were a loving couple with young children.
They were determined to kick cancer’s ass, together.
They had no reason to believe it couldn’t be done.
They had tremendous support from their family and friends.
They allowed their Internet audience to share in the cancer-fighting experience.
And then he died. They fought and fought, and he died anyway. There’s just no way around how completely unfair that is, how wrong that is, that this woman will now have to figure out how to live without her best friend at her side, and that their kids will have to go through all the huge milestones in their lives without their dad to celebrate with them.
I’ve cried a whole bunch in the past 24 hours for them, but I gotta be honest and say that a lot of those tears were for me and my family, too. I know that’s incredibly selfish, but it’s true. It’s just that this news scares the shit out of me. I’ve tried to stay upbeat, knowing that positive thinking is powerful and healing, but the fact is that it doesn’t necessarily make one bit of difference. I can fight-fight-fight!, diligently follow every one of the oncologist’s rules, and eat all the Pop Rocks I can get my hands on, but it doesn’t mean I’m coming out of this alive.
…and you thought my post last night was a bummer.
Jennifer,
ReplyDeleteI think it's impressive that you can be so open and honest about what you are going through.
The scary thing, for you and all of us, is that we can do all the right things and they don't necessarily take care of us. You know your enemy is cancer right now, but for all of us there are unknowns, too. It's hard to be brave in the face of that as humans, I think, but especially hard when you know "what" your enemy is and it's staring you in the face.
I'm so sorry you are being forced to fight this and to think about all these negative possibilities. So, so sorry!
I think you can't help but put yourself in those situations, though it certainly does give you some idea of how that family must be feeling.
ReplyDeleteAnd you are certainly entitled to some "downs" now and again!
I saw mention of califmom's tweet yesterday too and went over to take a look and have a sad moment for them.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for that family's loss, and the dagnabit downside of this instant-info land of the interwebnets is that we know the good and we know the bad almost immediately anymore, it seems. And I think we imagine we should be able to process just as quickly too. Which we can't. So taking the time to sit with darkness isn't pretty, but it's what needs to happen to move on, and through.
If some days are darker than others, well, your friends and family can deal with that. Pass a little darkness on over to us, and hopefully it will lighten your burdens just a tad.
Thanks for sharing where you're at, and always being real. You are loved, so much, and I know you'll somehow gather the strength and courage to meet each day and each challenge.
xoxo
Jennifer,
ReplyDeleteI think it's impressive that you can be so open and honest about what you are going through.
The scary thing, for you and all of us, is that we can do all the right things and they don't necessarily take care of us. You know your enemy is cancer right now, but for all of us there are unknowns, too. It's hard to be brave in the face of that as humans, I think, but especially hard when you know "what" your enemy is and it's staring you in the face.
I'm so sorry you are being forced to fight this and to think about all these negative possibilities. So, so sorry!