New Day, Ugly Ugly Truths

People who know a lot don’t know everything.

But what I have to admit is what’s been building all week and came to a head after the support group meeting.

Early in the week, it was depression. But I waited– depression isn’t always what it seems. And then came that group. The group of survivors, so certain that they can keep living well, so determined to find the treatments that will facilitate that, and to travel wherever they have to to meet with doctors or engage in clinical trials. They seek trials because they have exhausted every other option. And yes, I know their diagnoses are more serious than mine. Yes, I understand that their disease is considered terminal and not chronic and that the aim for me is cure.

But I am deeply, deeply angry, angry beyond belief. Angry that I have cancer, angry that, despite my hopes, graduating from treatment does not mean graduating from cancer. I KNOW, positive attitude is key, and I will work through this to a new place of understanding and acceptance.

But not today.

Today I am angry that my life has been derailed.

I am angry that cancer is inevitably part of my future.

I am angry that they don’t know if the Covid vaccine offers the same protection for me as for others, which means I need to protect myself as though I am not vaccinated.

I am angry that I had to let go of my goal of the big ride to Multnomah Falls. I am angry that even my Peloton training has had to change so dramatically.

I am angry that I rely on a nap every afternoon to get through the day.

I am angry that there are potentially damaging effects of the immunology. Pneumonitis, a type of infection, usually results in suspended treatment, months of steroids, and diminished lunch function, which may be permanent. I am deeply afraid to face that reality, although saying it is the first step.

I am angry that I don’t know how– or if– to plan for the future.

I am angry that I have no control over any of this, except for how I take care of myself.

I am angry at how unfair it is, not only to have cancer, one, but two, to have a cancer about which so little is known.

I am angry. So very angry.

I DO NOT want to devote my time to researching stuff that might affect future decisions. As long as treatment is showing results, I have better things to do with my time.

I DO NOT want to become one of these people who makes magic shakes designed to fight inflammation or seeks out herbs or vitamins or…whatever.

I DO NOT want to be inundated with advice about Menuca honey (whatever the fuck that is) or vitamin C or vitamin D or the bullshit “you can cure cancer with your diet.” Because you can’t. That’s not how cancer works.

I DO NOT want to be the object of pity.

I DO NOT WANT CANCER TO RULE MY LIFE. And, since realizing that I haven’t graduated from cancer, I realize that I am afraid it is inevitable that this happens.

I do not want love or care or concern to manifest as pity or advice–  as anything but acknowledgement of the overall suckiness of the circumstances and belief that I will cope and continue. Actually, I don’t know what I want. Black humor seems to work.

I just know is lonely to be on a path that most of my dear ones can’t travel with me, can’t really begin to understand.

Look, I know lots of truths: no one knows how long they have to live; I should savor every moment I have; gratitude is powerful; attitude is what’s key; diet and exercise are important; blah blah blah.

I will be a warrior. I will figure out The Things to get to the other side of this. But right now, right now I am more angry than I have ever been in my life.

You should probably give me a wide berth– I am not pleasant to be around. And I am probably going to hibernate for a while, until I get a better grip on this.

And yes, I am talking to a professional about this, so please save that piece of advice for someone else. (See? Angry.)

Now you know.

Thanks for reading.