I know so many things. And I’m not so sure I want to know a great
many of them. Like the fact that my
daughter has stage four breast cancer.
And that it is currently incurable.
And it is currently questionable and no longer advisable to remove the main
site of the cancer through surgery at this late stage. I know that she is strong and fierce and
determined. And I like knowing
that. But I don’t like knowing that she
has to use that strength to live with a cancer that is incurable. I would much prefer to know that she was
saving up that strength or using it toward slaying other dragons, the
noninvasive variety. The ones that live
in enchanted kingdoms with fairy tale endings and happily ever afters.
I know that I will find my
own strength to help support her through this in any way that I can.
I know I will also take some of her strength in the process and later she will be
given some of mine, tenfold. I know she is in
pain now. And I know there will be more
pain. Physical pain that might seem at
times unbearable. But I know she will
bear it, because she always has. This is the woman, that was once the girl that ran on a broken leg for a large part of her second year on the varsity cross-country team in 8th grade because she could not let down the team. I know, because I had to practically wrestle her to the orthopedic surgeon after watching her limp off the late bus and then walk into the house as though she was A.O.K. and all around swell. A broken leg. Running on it. She bears things. Great and horrible things. And beams her big gorgeous smile to try to convince everyone she is A. O.K. But I am her mother. And I know things. So she is keeping me at bay, for now. I like
knowing she is strong. But I would like
it better if she didn’t need to use that strength quite so much in the
tenderness of her life that has just begun. Or to convince anyone else that she is A.O.K.
I know this will not be my
last challenge. Or hers. I know there
will be many more. I don’t like knowing
there will be unnecessary challenges in the midst of all the unavoidable challenges. I
know I will inadvertently waste time and energy on things I have no control over. I know I will work at minimizing this. And I hope I will have success in those attempts to minimize. I know I have a fierce and growing group of friends that will help keep me on course, so that I might help her navigate her course, when she is feeling a little adrift or all together lost.
I know my challenges have seemed endless to those close to me over the past few years. But I also know they are small in comparison
to many. They are for the most part
challenges that can be overcome or endured through the very strength my
daughter yields. My daughter has cancer
but cancer does not have her. She is stronger than that. She will not give cancer anymore than she
must. She will see more, do more, be
more than most of us can even imagine possible. And cancer better be aware. She is strong and fierce and loved deeply. She has people. And her people have people. So those little cancer cells? They best take notice because if need be she is a dragon slayer.
I know several people that
have suffered the loss of children, spouses, loved ones. I know people that have suffered the
destruction of war, and poverty, and addiction. People displaced by storms and other natural disasters. And those that have lost faith, in
themselves, in humanity, in God, or a higher power. I know people that have given up and given
into addictions and ailments and adversity.
I have known people that suffer a pain so deep they are compelled to hurt
others. And knowing it is the only release they have for their own pain, does not make it any easier to suffer at their hands. I know someone that suffers from guilt and shame and self-hatred. He has created his very own emotional cancer, incurable simply because he lacks strength and the ability to look within and heal so that he may love fully, himself and his children. I feel compassion for him and those like him. And I wish them peace. I know I will never suffer that amount of pain or struggle. And I know his is a disease far worse than cancer and that causes me to know sadness.
Cancer may be currently incurable by medical definitions, but cancer has not had to deal with my daughter. She will fight it out of her, and give it very little else, because I know she has a very big life to live. And a few happily ever afters to begin and see through.
Go to the link below to help support Team You Go Girl Relay for Life May 30, 2015 at Rondout Valley Central School District. Join our team or make a donation to help slay this beast.
http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/?team_id=1717587&pg=team&fr_id=68945
