Is Cancer a Word or a Sentence?

There's not much to be done about the physical pain. Sure there are pills and ointments, but you reach a certain pain threshold and then it becomes programmed into your daily routine. It's not the cancer itself that hurts, because the tumor sits there like a silent killer hoping not to draw attention to itself. It's the side effects from the daily chemoradiation that knock me down. If pain is the price I have to pay, then so be it because I will assassinate this tumor before it assassinates me- take no prisoners. This temporary pain will eventually pass and be duly filed away and dimly remembered, much like the pain of childbirth for most women. However, time heals some kinds of pain, but it intensifies others. My emotional state is what I can control, and I realized that the emotional health of others is just as important as my own during this battle. Everyone reacts differently and has their own coping mechanism, and I've learned to be sensitive to that and take care of others as much as they are taking care of me.

As my mom battled her own cancer, she would not communicate with us to any real extent about her state of mind or her emotional needs. She would never finish the conversation if I broached the subject. She wanted to protect us, to be brave for us, to battle silently so that she might spare us from her own horrific experience. But what she didn't realize was that we were on the trip anyway, with no pilot. Only as she lay in her morphine-induced sleep would I hear her recalling names, random bits of stories, and even see her shedding silent tears. I wish that I could have understood what she had been thinking and feeling at the time because she must have been grieving for herself even as we grieved for her. Even though she fought bravely for two years and we had all that time to say goodbye, we could not mine the depths of her heart and her mind so we were never ready to let her go. After my mom passed away, my siblings and I did not grow closer. We actually all retreated into our own separate lives and grieved in our own way. Over the years, we found our way back to each other and became closer than ever after the birth our nephew Connor and eventually the birth of our little half-sister, Diane. My cousins went through the same kind of hazy experience with their mom when she died of liver cancer, and now they are celebrating the birth of their first nephew, Zuri.

The cycles of life and death will draw families and friends closer or tear them apart. But it is just as important to test your love and faith in each other in the moments in between. Cancer is so much more than a word, but it's not a sentence either- it doesn't have to be. Even as scary, painful and private as cancer can be, I have chosen to let my loved ones in because that is what I can do for them. If I kept everyone at arm's length, if I didn't want to see or talk to anyone about this experience, then I would be building a prison for myself and not letting life have visitation rights. I would be laboring under the false assumption that I am protecting those I love when in fact I would be inadvertently causing pain to those who just want to be here for me as I go through this. By letting friends and family love me and help me, it mitigates both the physical and emotional pain. It creates a circle of good energy and contributes immensely to my well-being as I fight this. It allows my loved ones to stand up for me as their own means of coping with the whole ordeal, and it truly brings out the best in each person when they are allowed to express themselves fully without being shut out, sanctioned or turned away.

This blog is not meant to scare, inconvenience, lecture, nor obligate anyone. You are here by invitation and can re-visit as many times as you like or not at all. That's the beauty of it. I am neither sugar-coating nor muddling the truth about cancer either. By stripping away the fear and stigma that surrounds cancer, by being candid and laying my emotions bare, I am reaching out to the hands held out to me and holding fast to those who want to help me. Cancer doesn't have to be a death sentence. More to the point, it is a life sentence because I will carry this experience with me forever even after the cancer is cut out. But also because of it, I will live more fully and let those in my life know just how much I've always loved and needed them. No one should be left guessing nor be made to fill in the blanks. If I didn't say it before, I will be sure to let each and every one of you know now while I have the opportunity to do so.

This post is dedicated to my friends Alieke, Edith, Steve S., Jim C., Gina B., Lisa M. and Bonita who all have a mother, father or aunt who have faced brave battles of their own. Please know that you and your loved ones are in my thoughts and prayers as well. Cancer touches us all in one way or another, and we should build a community of love and support to sustain us. I am here for you too.