“There are things we don’t want to happen but have to accept, things we don’t want to know but have to learn, and people we can’t live without but have to let go.” – Unknown
First of all, we had another stellar report from our recent post maintenance therapy check up in Arkansas. David continues to do well and there are no concerns. I’m not happy with his T Cell lab reports, so once again made my pitch for 20 therapeutic HBO treatments that the clinic recommended when we went there before we started treatment. He is more open to it after seeing those numbers and I will call soon to get data in a new unit of time on cost and so on.
As I was getting in the car to head to the airport not 20 minutes after our consultation with the doctor, my phone rang and my former neighbor and friend was on the line to tell me that Allison (his wife) is now terminal with her throat cancer. He was breaking down and I was devastated. The bastards took her voice box six weeks earlier and I don’t believe for a second that if they had done the CT scan before they made that decision they would have seen it in her brain. So now she is mutilated, can’t talk, has to suction out the mucus through the hole in her throat, using a feeding tube, etc. It was then that finally, FINALLY, I understand better our trepidation and fears about cancer. Sometimes I’m a little slow.
In the past on my blog I’ve tried to put it in perspective this thing we fear. Often asking why does it scare us so? What about strokes, heart attacks, amputated limbs, head trauma, etc.? Anyway, I was chatting with a friend and running it through my head out loud while I was weeping about my dear friend Allison and her husband Paul, on the verge of retirement and the next season of their lives together. And I said, “It’s like the holocaust! You know… you are told it will be ok just get in the box car… it will be OK just lay down on the examining table… it will be OK, just take a shower…!!!!! That they willingly climbed onto the box car, unsure, but trusting, feeling as though they had no choice. With cancer we WILLINGLY subject ourselves to letting them infuse poison into our bodies in the HOPE that it will destroy the cancer. We WILLINGLY allow them to remove parts of our body with the HOPE that we will survive and adjust. Some of us make it, but more don’t.” Now granted, the doctors are not evil, though many are not as competent as I would like. And I always hate people who use the holocaust comparison and therefore demean in some way how evil it all was. But I was really just making the connection on how we subject ourselves to these barbaric treatments with trust and the HOPE that it will save our lives, even though our lives may be drastically altered. This willingness to do something we know inherently could be awful and we still may not make it.
“Fate worse than death.”
That age ole saying, “Fate worse than death,” comes to mind. This, and other things that can happen in life is what I think it means. There really are worse things than death. It is extremely personal, the choices we make. It deserves our respect.
“Suffering is traumatic and awful and we get angry and we shake our fists at the heavens and we vent and rage and weep. But in the process we discover a new tomorrow, one we never would have imagined otherwise.” – Rob Bell
I don’t mean to be so melancholy, but I was struck by the fact that it had been the third time in the course of a year that I had received really GREAT NEWS only to receive really BAD NEWS within hours or less of the good news. Spiritually I feel like I’m soaring only to feel like I’ve been yanked back to earth and slammed onto a hard pile of rocks! Trying to reconcile it all in my universe is something that I have been coping with. I can be pragmatic, analytical, intellectual, etc., but the truth is, it just pisses me off!
“Courage is being scared to death… and saddling up anyway.” – John Wayne
As I was driving in the car with Dave to the Little Rock airport I said, “Dave, it’s in her brain and her voice box is gone. I can’t even talk to her on the phone. I have a bunch of stuff coming up in the middle to the end of June and I don’t know if she’ll make it to July for me to go and see her.” As I was quietly weeping, Dave said, “Well when we get home let’s see if we can’t get you out there.” I got home Friday morning at 4 am and turned around and flew out to Maryland Sunday morning. Managing my fear and anxiety to face Paul and Allison was something I’ve done before. I know it takes courage and I know that once I step through the door I will be OK. It’s those moments between decision to do so and then doing it that can eat me alive!
Link to Amazon
I stayed with the neighbor on the other side of my house and spent the week with Paul and Allison during the day. I wisely spent my evenings having dinner with friends I had not seen in ages despite my many trips back to the area. It was wonderful to see everyone and catch up with their lives. Allison is amazing and hasn’t lost her wry sense of humor as she and I conversed on her cool little “Boogie Board,” an LCD chalk board. Paul is doing an AMAZING job of caring for her and has extended leave to manage things. Hospice is coming in and they asked if I would be there for that. We took Ali to get her hair done and her longtime hair dresser did an amazing job. He also offered to come to the house if needed down the line. Sorority Sisters from VA Tech have been coming and staggering their visits to see Allison and help out if they can. The neighbors have rallied and are doing their part to mow the lawn and make Paul a plate for dinner. It’s been hard for Paul to accept help, but he is struggling through it and it’s a good thing.
When I left Allison wrote, “When are you coming back my sister?” I struggled to not completely lose it. Composed I said, “Maybe I can make it happen in July Allison. I need to come back and see my sister in Pennsylvania. I’ll try.” We hugged and I headed out to have a last minute brunch with Montana before I headed to the airport.
It feels like I’ve been gone forever. I’m still trying to process everything. I’ve missed you all and we’ve lost a lot of stellar people to MM these last several months. I feel this need to memorialize them all, but suffice to say that they have all touched my life’s journey in profound and wonderful ways. I’m a better person for having known them no matter if we have ever met in person or not. I feel rich beyond calculation at times for having the honor to correspond with you in some way. You continue to teach me, inspire me, make me laugh out loud and touch me deeply. Thank you.
Thank you all for your comments! Shelley, your friend gave you really good advice! We do need to MOVE THROUGH our grief and not suppress our emotions. My mom chose not to do chemo. But it was very clear. It only had a prospect of a 3% chance of keeping her alive another few months. It was pretty hands down an easy decision for her.
I’m sorry for your MM loss Doug. It is just so in your face hard.
You have a nice blog Alex. I hope some will visit it!
Since Daryl passed away I’ve often thought about what I would do if I were diagnosed with cancer that was far advanced. I know now after watching how much Daryl suffered with all of his treatments, I would not take any chemo treatments myself. I would prefer to enjoy what time I had left and not be sick with chemo or radiation treatments.
Cancer changes your life in ways that you could never imagine. We have also lost many of our members from our local MM support group in the past year. It is heart breaking.
I recently told a friend that I had had a really rough day and called it my pity party. She corrected me and said that allowing ourselves to feel the emotions, good or bad was really important to our healing. Suppressing the emotions is much worse for us and not very healthy in the long run.
Sending extra hugs to you, Lori and praying for your dear friends.
So very proud of you!
Much love and respect to the family.
I received word a couple of weeks ago about the loss of one of my first internet MM connections. She was treated in Ark and we had much in common on the treatment front. She passed from a secondary cancer. I’ve lost more than a few that I’ve relied on for the past 5+ years. For me, it gets to be too much at times and I have to excuse myself. Thank you for once again capturing thoughts I can’t find words for. Peace and abundant blessings to you Lori
Doug
Lori
Firstly, my thoughts go to Alison and Paul. I may not know them, but those of us living with cancer can offer one another empathy and solidarity.
I think you wrote some really frank and profound things in this post. Harsh, but also beautiful. I share much of your sentiment.
Alex
Lori: So very sorry about your friend, Allison. I’m happy you could spend time with her, and her honey, while she is still able to enjoy your visit.
I’m glad that Dave’s numbers are still good and that he’s feeling good.
Take care, friend….keep weaving and writing!!
With MM, we are happy that a friend is recovering, doing well, gets CR or stays there. At the same time we are aware that others are failing or hear that someone we have befriended has passed away. It sometimes feels like too much, and other times, it just is. I think for me anyway, it is important to manage these ups and downs. Both emotions are at times extreme. I continue to not share a lot of this with Dave. He’s happy, he’s healthy, he’s working. Which means, I rely on you and others for emotional support, to allow me to suffer in my low moments. My little visits to Pity Party.