A Bit of Cancer

When I decided to start writing my intention was simple, even if followed by a morbid shadow: provide a place to release the various conversations tumbling around my mind in hushed whispers and silent screams. And in the event this all doesn’t work out the way statistics say it should, then these entries might provide a legacy of sorts for the few I love most. 

Instead I quickly lost sight of that goal. I found myself asking what people might want to read – What purpose can I provide? Insight, wisdom, advocacy… Does this sound like AI? I’ve always used those little dashes. Is this too morbid, dramatic, negative? Am I feeding into the same tripe and tropes I turn away from? And so I paused, confining those words back to their deafening silence locked in my head.

I’ve learned a lot since my diagnosis two years ago. Statistics, survival, treatments, surgeries, things I wish never had any relevance to my life. Ignorance was bliss. But the one thing I’ve unexpectedly learned and screams the loudest is just how incredibly isolating and lonely a cancer diagnosis is. Any serious illness really, but cancer hit in a particularly harsh way.

Popular belief lends itself to images of togetherness, T-shirts, teams, inspiration, warriors and battles and fights. And that does exist – upon my diagnosis people reached out, my living room filled with flowers, my phone alerted and lit up more than ever. But just as quickly the noise quiets down, the phone calls fade, and the flowers die. Well, all except the thoughtfully arranged basket of plants that came from my aunt and cousins – multiple repottings later they still thrive on various windowsills – including a beautiful prayer plant I have irrationally (and unhealthily) tied my cancer survival to. Consider this foreshadowing to the strange ways my mind works.

People fall away. Friends leave. No one prepares you for that part, but it is not uncommon. I don’t blame them. If I could walk away from this I would too.

But people stay. Sometimes the people you least expect. And that is beautiful. They are beautiful. They try so hard, and you appreciate so much, always grateful… but the reality remains that a cancer diagnosis is more than difficult to comprehend unless you’ve experienced it. And there is only so much most people can handle – no one prepares you for how much of your diagnosis will be spent protecting others from it.

There are support groups – and for some I am sure they are great. I, however, have never quite felt well understood. My cancer pisses me off more than it makes me inspirational. I choke on perfectly positive platitudes. And the comparative suffering – at least you’re not this, I’m that, you’re old, I’m young, be grateful you’re not me… serves no one. Cancer sucks. It is a thief that robs us all – some it takes more than others… but it is relentlessly cruel to all it touches.

And thus you – assuming you’re like me – are left with thoughts tumbling around your head, countless conversations spoken silently in your mind, and a smile on your face in a crowded room.

So consider this a rededication to my original purpose. Made on this day, my toes in the sand, the sprawling waters of Lake Michigan spread before me. Two-year scans are two weeks away, which means I am chasing God in water and awe-inspiring places (complete with a bird just shitting on me. Thanks for keeping me grounded before I went off on the inspirational cancer trail, little buddy. And an especially big thanks for aiming for my foot when so many other opportunities were present).

I don’t expect this little writing corner of mine will ever become a best seller – if you’re looking for heroic prose you’re unlikely to find it here – while I have my moments, it’s been two years and I’m still pretty angry about this whole thing. But I live and love every day in spite of that anger. I have grand plans for my future and some pretty spectacular adventures planned – and that’s more optimistic than any motivational poster or regurgitated tagline could ever be. And I see some pretty cool stuff along the way, should whatever random soul reading this decide to stick around.

So tumble out, crazy incoherent thoughts… here I set thee free. Perhaps they shall resonate with another, or provide comfort to my boys if all goes to hell (they are already aware I’m nuts). And if nothing else, at least they will have been said.