You Have to be In It...

As optimistic and determined as I have been through this cancer journey, I will readily admit that I have my off days. Most of the time since I was discharged, I’ve just been living my life as best I can amidst frequent hospital visits. I rest, walk, read and enjoy my family. But every once in a while, I have a Really Bad Day. Usually those are the days where my mind goes into cataclysmic mode, where an infected blister means I’ll lose my foot, a runny nose means a deadly virus (obviously), or I imagine myself as a widow if my husband is a half hour late. Without doubt, this kind of thinking is not helpful to recovery.

Then, in the midst of this funk, I get bombarded with overwhelming information and impossible decisions. Radiation or not? Clinical trial or standard treatment? Door Number One has a laundry list of scary side effects. Door Number Two has different ones. Door Number Three is locked.

So how do you get out of such a black cloud? Caffeine, alcohol, saturated fat and sugar are all out for me. Exercise is a possibility, but I can't work out hard enough to really make a difference. Sedatives are an option, as are some pretty strong painkillers, but pill popping is not really my thing (plus it is so passé).

There is, of course, the “It Could Be Worse” game. And believe me, it could always be worse. My children aren’t starving. I don’t live in a war zone. I still have my legs. I haven’t been abducted by guerrillas. Or gorillas. The list goes on. But this game does not usually make me feel better. In fact, it just makes me sad to think about all of the awful things that people experience (and it makes me a little wary of gorillas). 

Finally I realized that sometimes you just have to feel it. Some days, there is no escape. You just have to sit in the funk. Now I'm not one to advocate wallowing, because that generally just makes you and everyone around you miserable. But all of this illness and trauma and decision making is part of the human experience -- we cannot just skip the hard parts or check out until something good comes along. Bad things happen to everyone. The degree of "badness" might differ, but no one is exempt. When I accepted that my sudden illness was all part of being human, "Why Me?” became “Why Not Me?” Life is painful and unfair, yes, but it is also wonderful, magical, and miraculous, all at the same time. As I am dealing with cancer, my beautiful daughter is taking her first steps. Life is just like that.

So I decided that checking out with drugs, alcohol, denial, or twelve hours of TV a day (pick your poison) was not an option for me. I decided that I needed to feel it all. I must admit that this can be exhausting. Sometimes, I would rather just sleep it all away in a haze of barbiturates. But I don't. Spring is here, my daughter is saying her first words, and my son is asking me Big Questions about the galaxy. I don't want to miss a thing.