Thanksgiving had been last Monday, here in Canada. I was filled with turkey on Sunday and we rested most of the actual holiday. I was messaging someone that I realized might not have seen my posts about cancer progression and from that conversation came something I thought would be a good blog post.
I hate cancer. It will one day take me from all I love, it has taken loved ones from my life and from the lives of others. For now, I am here, so I can say one of the oddest things to ever come from me: there are ways I am grateful for my cancer. I'm not happy I have it, I'm not thrilled that it is trying to spread, but if I had never had cancer there's a few things I wouldn't know or have.
Because of my cancer I have many friends across this nation and the world that I would likely have never even known existed otherwise. I have had the rare and wonderful opportunity to meet others with various cancers and share with them our laments and our joys. I have several friends that do not have cancer but because of the way it helped connect us, we now have a friendship that I could not of dreamed of finding.
I know how much my husband values me. There's always tests in a relationship, there's stressful times and many tribulations. Despite all the horrors we've faced with cancer, my husband cares for me, his love has been unwavering. He shows me daily that he loves and cherishes me.
I've seen the kindness of strangers. I have been able to witness and experience the love given by someone that does not know more than your name and maybe a brief account of your affliction. Love coming from someone that has no connection going in is beautiful and becoming more unique. Although in my mind, if someone needs and you have or can help then you do, it is not the norm. That is something that I have slowly come to realize, but seeing that there are still some out there that feel the same way warms my soul.
I know that I am capable of being stronger in spirit than I would have thought. There have been times that I thought of the next treatment and my shoulders would drop, my head would hang heavy, and my breath would be no more than a resound sigh. There were days that I wanted to say "no more", just stop everything because the feeling I would have to endure was abhorrent at best. But I did take that treatment. I did bare the effects and make it through to the better days. Part of it was for me, but part of it was for my family and friends. I'm not saying it to place any weight on their shoulders, I'm saying it because I know if our roles were reversed and I was watching them deal with this, I would hope that they could find the strength to hold on as long as they could, to stay in my life. I am not ashamed to admit that I selfishly want my friends here to talk to. I have lost so many to this date that I do not want to hear the words "they're gone" one more time. I do not want them to hear that I am gone, either.
I will also admit that some days I do wonder if I am becoming more of a burden with all that has happened since the car collision in 2008. I have become limited in physical capability due to the MVA, something that has made dealing with cancer worse. If I was a fully functioning adult there are some things that would be easier with this cancer life. I still continue, however. I do what I can and try to accept what I cannot do.
I hate cancer, I would not wish it on anyone. I cannot deny the good that this mass of unruly cells has brought into my life, though. I am grateful for the lighter side of this experience, but would still like it if one day I was told the cancer was irradiated or would be forever manageable from that day forth.
