Thursday, March 12, 2009

Radiation Burn Blues

Tomorrow is the last one. The final treatment I'll go through. We're going to assume that I'm through dealing with this and can finally stop acting like a victim of something horrible and move on with my life. Not that I've really been acting like a victim, but then again, when a doctor tells you have cancer, and you are subjected to almost 18 months of appointments, treatments and more waiting than a human being should ever have to do in one lifetime, you are moved into that category. Everyone else just expects the victim to play the part. I'd like to think that for the most part, I've taken my journey well, and in my opinion, the world should stop equating cancer with death. People should stop bursting into tears when they are told of their own illness or that of a loved one. Cancer is not the end of life. Well, it is occasionally, but people die of heart attacks and heart disease in numbers as large as those who pass on from cancer, but the stigma isn't there. When have you ever been told that you or someone you know has heart disease and then broke out into uncontrollable tears? Some people are in such denial about the whole situation that they can't even say or hear the word "cancer".

Foolishness. Grow up you g-d wimps.

Those of us that have cancer have reason to break down and cry on occasion. We're facing our own mortality, but for most of us, we'll survive. We might not be in the best condition when we're officially declared "In remission", or have a scan with no evidence of disease on it (it's called dancing with NED), but because we're still here, we can move on and adapt how we are to the world we're put into. In many ways, those that don't survive give the rest of us the strength to carry on our own fights. Many of us, especially those who lose a close friend, or hear of someone in a similar condition who didn't make it, get a chill down our spine, a sudden fear of dying. Probably left over from the days when we needed that instinct, but realistically, what happens to someone else is what happens to them. My fight is mine, and whatever bumps I've come across just make it interesting and unique.

I can understand the fear of the unknown, which is what it all comes down to on a very basic level. And relating to someone else who has what you have makes things easier to cope with. But as I said, each of us has a unique journey in front of us. And in the darkness of the night, when we are as vulnerable as a newborn, everything we are afraid of can invade our dreams and turn them into nightmares. But within each patient, each person who has dealt with and survived this disease, even those that didn't make it, lies a seed of hope.

Bringing this back to myself, and apologizing for the sermon, I have finally reached a plateau in my road. Tomorrow is the last treatment. Saturday is the first day of the next chapter of my life. I'm a little scared and anxious about being in this "Post-Treatment" phase. My body, my mind and my emotions have been through so much in the past 18 months. I'm now going to have to adapt from this part to whatever is next, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it. I am still tired and worn out, and I have to start eating healthier. The chemo diet is over. There are going to be lots of changes happening in the next 6 months of my life.

I just wonder if I'll be able to keep up.

1 comment:

ti said...

Cancer is a word, not a sentence!

And there will be lots of changes coming, but you'll be fine, you've proven you can adapt, adjust and cope as needed. You still amaze me with your strength and great attitude through (most of) this.

Congrats on reaching the finish line... treatment is just about done - FINALLY!!
Love you!!!