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Cancer is Weird

 Cancer is one of those things that you might hear about often but usually, unless it affects you or someone you love, you might not really give it that much thought. It doesn’t mean you don’t care that others are suffering with it and fighting it, it just might be something you only notice on the periphery.

I would say that was true for me. My biological father died from cancer at age 42. My maternal grandfather had lung cancer. I have friends who have dealt with it. Father doesn’t count in this regard simply because, through his own life choices, I never had a relationship with him. Sure, I felt bad when I learned he was dying from it, but it is that feeling his have when you find out a total stranger died in a bad car accident. You can feel sad about it, but there is no real emotional connection.

My grandpa was an old man most of my life. I mean, he wasn’t actually old but he acted like he was. He died when I was 19. He was 69 (which is not as old as he acted). I’m not sure if the span of almost 3 decades since we lost him has altered my memories of him during that time…but I don’t think so. I was probably 11 when he had his lung removed so I just remember him always having his oxygen tanks. He also didn’t stop smoking after having a lung removed so….choices.

My friends and acquaintances who have battled cancer are all on this side of it seeming to be happier. 

But I’m in that space where it’s all new still. Every day seems to bring more information (and sadly usually it’s not good information) and it’s a lot to process. I am an excellent note taker, yet I am still vastly overwhelmed by all of the information that has come my way.

Yesterday, I spent many hours at school trying to be ready for the first day with students while also recognizing that my days with them are numbered. This tumor is gigantic and grew in a year. I distracted myself well…but once I was away from that and at our lake cottage, the emotions came back.

I am just pissed. I want to throw things. I want to rage. I want to ask the universe who the hell did I piss off to continue to have shit thrown my way while complete assholes get to sail  through life without a care in the world. It’s just maddening. When can I catch a break already?

But then I decided that my passion has always been advocacy; speaking up for those who can’t or won’t. There are lessons here. First and foremost, I have to stop putting myself dead last in my priorities. My kids are adults. They don’t need me the same way. I don’t need to work a second job or whatever. I can learn to just exist (God knows I have enough yarn to keep me busy in that regard).

But perhaps there is also a lesson in the journey. I don’t know that lesson or lessons yet, but they are there, I’m sure.

Raye

If you’re reading this and want to support me on this journey, please consider donating or at least sharing the donation link. Thank you.  

https://gofund.me/f0934c8a



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