Things about a terminal cancer diagnosis you have no idea exist until it’s you…
On one hand (the gimpy, shakey hand)…
1) You grieve. A lot. You mourn your old self, especially when you see old pics of your “real life” self.
2) You think about who you were in “real life” vs. who you have become.
3) You question “real life”. What even is it anymore? Is this as good as it now gets?
4) You wonder what’s next. What’s hiding around the corner? What’s lurking behind Door #2?
5) You question your sanity, your strength, your thoughts, your feelings. All the time.
6) You swallow pills and let the radiation swirl. You wear the gadget on your head. You double the dose. You wonder if any of it is working.
7) People ask “how are you feeling” a lot, and you have to come up with something reasonable to say, because if they heard your internal dialogue, they’d be horrified.
8) The prospect of going back to a hospital is scary as hell. You no longer have the benefit of “ignorance is bliss”, and PTSD is a thing.
9) Cold. Hot. Mad. Frustrated. Tearful. Worried. Scared. Prayerful. Hopeful. Then it starts all over.
10) You feel lost. What do I do with myself now? What am I able to do? You feel burdensome, because you need help all the time.
On the other hand (the good, reliable left hand)…
1) People love you so big, and they show up big. At least, the real ones do.
2) If you can keep your head about you, you learn more about your stamina, your grit, and your courage.
3) The world looks different, but beautifully. You stop caring about worldy nonsense that doesn’t matter one little bit like politics, news, people’s opinions, standing on ceremony with people. Eff all that!
4) God is so good. You can watch him work. Now your eyes and ears are open more.
5) Perspective becomes legit. My kids are not fighting for their lives at St. Jude. I’m not awaiting a transplant or anticipating losing a limb. I have a home and health insurance. My husband is hot, and my kids are not ugly.
6) God arranged (arranges) everything perfectly for me. It’s as clear as day. I’m so thankful for that.
7) I can still motivate, teach, inspire, and encourage, and I want more platforms on which to do that.
8) I can walk. I can get in the shower by myself. I can see and talk and sleep in my bed.
9) I can still think and remember. I can math and remember words. Both are triumphs for brain tumor peeps.
10) I have the privilege of still being alive. I don’t think I’m done here, and when I am, that will be ok. I’ll be kicking up gold dust, People.
I’m learning that it’s ok to be both…
Scared AND brave,
Lost AND reassured,
Lonely AND loved,
Confused AND smart,
Tired AND eager,
Stressed AND calm…
And there are so many more.
Please be encouraged to stop sometimes, and see your big picture, even when (especially when) life sucks. You have LIFE, and that’s kind of a big deal. Don’t waste it.
I love y’all.
#powerinthepurple
#pray4msa
#graceanddignity