Yesterday I skipped Sunday School on purpose because the lesson was about Character Development In Suffering, and as I was going through the chapter in the guidebook, about half-way through it, I wanted to chuck the guidebook across the room. I ended up not finishing that lesson. Given those things, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to attend yesterday.
When we were leaving church, the leader of the Sunday School class said that she missed me in class yesterday, and I said:
Oh, that one hit a little too close to home.
She hugged me. She’s a sweetheart. I also told her that I had a really hard time with that chapter, and she said that some had a hard time with it, and others found it very easy.
That’s what I was afraid of, and I’m too close to the topic right now to be able to remove myself from it and not get upset with what some might say. There’s a verse somewhere in The Bible about being joyful through all suffering — somewhere in James, I think. I’m don’t want to look it up right now; you biblical scholars might know it off the top of your noggins. I think that was the point where I wanted to throw the guidebook across the room, and started answering the questions in the book with my answers, not according to what we were reading in scripture. Rather, scratched, in angry script, answers according to what I think, disclaimers abounding.
I also know that there are other scripture verses that say other things, but what we were being lead to were the messages of be joyful in all that you endure kinds of things. At least as far as I got with that particular chapter.
And well . . . . no thanks.
I’m not one of those who believes that feelings in and of themselves are “good” or “bad,” “positive” or “negative.” I think it’s more what you end up doing with the feelings that can make them into “good” or “bad” things. But feelings in and of themselves? Just are. And coming to God with feelings of anger? I don’t think that’s wrong. In fact, I asked the pastor who lead the women’s retreat a few weeks ago about going to God in anger and she said that it’s not only OK, but that God expects it. Her thought was that as long as I’m still in communication with God, that’s fine.
I believe the same way. I get very angry at my situation at times, but I continue to come to God with my feelings. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Weariness. And even sometimes, a bit of peace. It’s there at times, but unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to last long. I try, I swear I try. But it’s all there. God gave me the ability to feel all of the feelings that I experience, and as long as I don’t shut Him out, but bring these feelings to Him and ask for His help — ??? I simply can’t be completely joyful about what’s happening to me. I don’t think I’d be human if I were. As Frank said, that would be some fierce kind of denial, some kind of illness, really, to be joyful about having metastatic breast cancer.
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This thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.
~ Anna Quindlen
I love the writing of Anna Quindlen. She’s one of my favorite authors.
It occurred to me yesterday, even a moment after I spoke to our Sunday School leader, that perhaps even fairly recently, I may have mumbled some excuse why I didn’t make it to Sunday School class. These days, though, I’m much more honest with everyone, including myself. It’s definitely not an easy way to live, with that much honesty. Sometimes it’s downright painful. I listened to the oncologist this past Tuesday as I asked her about timelines. What I said to her was:
I can’t get it out of my head that at one point, even before we got the final news that my cancer had metastasized to the liver, that you said that if it had spread to the liver that you’d be able to give me five years.
She then spoke at length about how much time I have depends on so many things — how my body responds to chemo is one. Patients with my specific type of cancer that has spread to the liver have lived anywhere from nine months to nine years. Nine years is better than the five years that we had originally been told, but of course, it’s still not enough. I’ll take every moment I can get, though, and we know that doctors, with all of their well-earned knowledge, don’t have crystal balls to tell us our entire futures. Even Dr. Funky Glasses told us that.
But even with all of that, and with so many people telling me that “we all really just have today,” it’s hard for me not to take to heart these, “I can give you x number of years,” or even the range of time that the oncologist presents me with. I start looking into the future, as abbreviated as mine seems at this point, and I start calculating. Nine years and Nate is only 15 years old. *sigh* I certainly didn’t sign onto adopting him thinking that I’d only be able to raise him for 11-15 years. I imagined raising him to adulthood, and then some. Girlfriends, college, marriage, babies, becoming a grandmother.
I know, people want me to stay optimistic, to hope, to keep those things in mind. And I want to hope, I want to imagine that kind of future. Right now, I just don’t know how. When the words of Dr. FG are fresh in my mind:
Some have lived up to nine years . . . . when there’s no hope, I’ll tell you; I’ll be honest with you. . . .
The truth is, my condition is incurable. That’s the bottom line. That’s the heartbreaker in all of this.
I guess I’m supposed to jump up and down at nine years, but I can’t help but think, “It’s not enough.”
I’m greedy. I keep wanting more.
And getting to nine years won’t be easy. There are a lot of IFs and a lot of treatments to get there:
IF you go into complete remission . . . . when you need treatment again, we can try different things . . . . I like to hold off on x treatment because it can cause stroke and heart attacks . .
It’s just not enough. It’s never enough.
I’m trying to LIVE with this and not think of myself as dying. I most likely have years. I need to fill those years, but it’s hard during treatment, treatment that consists of chemotherapy every week, 3 types of drugs that wear a person out. And I’m one of those whose body tolerates chemotherapy well; imagine if I didn’t tolerate chemo well!
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Yesterday as we said our goodbyes to our pastor, he said that he’d like to spend some time with me to talk about the good and the challenging of my situation. The thing is, I’m so very tired all the time that it really affects my mood, and right now, these days, unless I have some infusion of goodness/cheer/SOMETHING, it’s really hard to find/hang onto The Good. I’m tired, ergo I’m cranky. And I’m always, always tired. It’s not a matter of getting more sleep either. It’s just a state of being.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to the pastor. Talking to him might do me some good. I know he wants some prayer time with me and I’m sure that would be a great help to me. I’m just not sure I can be joyful or come up with much Good about my situation for him right now. I’m thankful for people who are helping us, I’m incredibly grateful for the church family who has reached out to us and is being very supportive, and I’ve met some neat people through this journey. I’m struggling with my relationship with God, but I’m there every day and trying very hard, and that is more than I’ve ever done in my life. So I suppose all of that IS good.
But beyond that? None of this feels very good and the whole “how much more life do I have?” question right now really feels very challenging and feels pretty crappy. The fact that I don’t have the energy to play with my son feels incredibly crappy. And the fact that my son is scared and angry because his mom has cancer is a really shitty thing to have to face.
And thinking about leaving him a motherless child, for the second time in his life, is more than I can bear.
Whatever people have said to help me come to terms with all of this, none of it comes close to what the reality really is which keeps coming back to all of the above.
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People don’t understand. I want to be one of those optimistic people who beats the odds. I want to be that person who said “screw it” to the doctors and did my own thing and came out ahead. I want to be That Person! But I don’t know how to be anybody but me. And if I’m not that optimistic person and I die, will it be my fault because I wasn’t that optimistic person?
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Sometimes I feel so lost.
