“F%#k cancer.”

Said everyone ever to be touched by it

Sorry not sorry to state the brutal reality of cancer.

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This Day in 2018:

Sad Reality

It was a very long and difficult week. Going back to work after a month off the grid is really hard. I loved being there but when work was still moving at the fast pace it was while I was out, I feel like I don’t know where to start with entering back into that. And so many hands were in my day-to-day tasks that it’s hard to know which end is up. It will all settle, sure… just in time for another surgery. 

Ugh.

And to top it off, Chris and the girls were in Michigan all week. Without me. It was a daily reminder of what cancer has mercilessly taken away. Next year…. But, like I wrote a few days ago – a lot can happen in a year…. and it doesn’t really make me feel better about what I had to miss out on this time. 

So tonight, while I sit in this sad reality, I am also loathing cancer. With every fiber of my battle-worn being.

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This Day in 2019:

Normal-Sized-Living

A family of 5 is just too big for NYC. Everything is small there….and while we are good with living simple, living small is different. We couldn’t walk as a whole family and instead had to walk single file most places we went, holding onto each other like a train so as to not lose one of us…and the Subway was stressful because we had to make sure all five of us got on and off before the doors shut, not to mention having to figure out which trains were going which directions and having to get five of us through the turnstiles. Even sitting at the restaurants was hard being a family of five as we were always cramming ourselves in a teeny table comfortable for two. And don’t even get me started on the cost of food for 5! And if we’re talking cost – a Lyft or Uber for 5 is an upgrade for sure. Yikes! All that to say, it was amazing and we loved every second.

Today was the perfect time to get out of the city, though, as we were so ready to get back to normal-sized-living. Our drive up to Buffalo through the Poconos Mountains, Pennsylvania and upstate NY was amazingly beautiful, with good ole 90’s music playing and great conversation, my family is such a joy to be with.

And the best part – we were driving and we realized this was only Day 3 of our 13-day vacation. 

Niagara Falls, here we come. 

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This Day in 2020:

Michigan2020

Well, in true 2020 fashion (funny how this basic number is becoming a descriptive adjective for anything that goes wrong)………. It started with a really unpleasant turbulent plane ride wearing masks for its entirety, then a long wait for a delayed rental car, to a click-list order that never got filled and wasted at least 10 total hours of time (from the time it took to click through and order the items, to the waiting in the store to understand why no one completed the shopping for the list to the actually having to do the shopping ourselves), with a major power outage the first day of our trip causing not only a lack of electricity but a lack of running water…needless to say, our family vacation was off to a 2020 start. Not to mention that while we love our annual Michigan trip, it was taking the place of a cancelled trip to Hawaii to celebrate Haleigh’s graduation. Also so 2020. 

Yet, despite the first two 2020 days, things settled and we enjoyed our time lake-side. Sitting in the sun with no responsibilities taking up time or space, instead filling the time and space with the beauty of the water, the depth of the trees, the indescribable sunsets, the breathtaking stars, the sound of laughter and joy and memories…it was so opposite 2020. It was lovely. And quiet. 

I also found it heavy. 

3 years ago – same lake, same lake-side view, same slow-down of time to sit and be quiet with my thoughts and feelings – my gut knew. It knew I’d never be the same. It knew life was going to take a dramatic and traumatic turn. It knew while everything else in me hoped otherwise. 

I remember Michigan 2017…

I remember sitting there in the sun, with my chest in my peripheral vision, already resenting the tumor that I was so desperately wishing away because deep down I knew. I told myself it wasn’t what I thought and just as fast as I thought those words, I thought, ‘yes, yes it is.’ 

I remember sitting there in a constant tension – no..yes……….no…..yes. No. But yes. 

I remember looking out on the water imagining all the scenarios. Would it be early? Or too late? What if I was told [fill in the blank]? 

I remember the fear of what it was going to be like to tell anyone my fears. No one knew because I couldn’t face the reality and telling someone would have made it all too real. I didn’t want to cause my own cancer because I spoke of it. 

So I quietly sat there, in a space and time that felt surreal, everything spinning, my gut knowing, my head denying, my heart hoarding. I’d go to the bathroom, sometimes without even having to go to the bathroom, just so I could be alone and feel for it…was it still there? “No!” [Oh. There it is.] I’d lay down in bed at night, on the side that faces away from Chris, and feel for it…because no one, not even my husband, could know I suspected anything. [I.just.couldn’t.cause.my.own.cancer.] “Yup.” [Damn. Still there. Come on, God. Take it. Can’t it just be a clogged milk duct? Even if it’s been 9 years since I’ve had a baby? That’s totally rational. Right? Or maybe it’s just a cyst, that’s totally normal. God, whatever it is, You have the power to just take it out. Do it. Please do it.] I’d imagine His big healing hand just taking it out while I slept and then I’d wake up and it was gone. I was even okay with Him leaving a sparkly God-scar behind and I could see it in my dreams. But each time I’d roll over, certain to check if Chris was awake, I’d feel for it. And each time, it was there. And each time, my gut grew more convinced of what it knew. And each time, my head and heart, in silent desperation, tried to will it away.

3 years later, I sat in the quiet and allowed these memories to sit with me. Not because I can’t let go, but because they matter. They tell a powerful story. And they offer powerful lessons.

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