Cancer is a word everyone knows, and more unfortunately, everyone has probably encountered in some way or another. It is a word that has become part of my regular vocabulary over the past few years, but also a word I would prefer to never have to hear again.
Recently, a friend of mine's son was diagnosed with leukemia. He is four years old. She has written honestly and diligently on Caring Bridge about their battle and I appreciate her uninhibited summarization of their situation because she is being truthful with herself and those that are reading - nothing about cancer is easy. You can have an easier day, or a day where there are more smiles than others, but it's still there. It's still inside of you, robbing your health, your spirit and taking from you the life that you once knew. She wrote today that she can't bring herself to capitalize "cancer" when she writes it because that makes it too real, too important, and makes her question too much about what they are going through right now.
It is the hardest thing (besides actually fighting cancer yourself) to watch someone you love dearly fight something so virulent and ruthless and powerful. Something that doesn't discriminate in choosing its victims - 82 year old grandmothers; 4 year old vibrant little boys; 35 year old healthy women. They're all game. They all will suffer. I wasn't there for Alison when she went through her cancer because we weren't as close then, but I was on the perimeter. She showed me scars and radiation marks with confidence and strength and she was the first person in my immediate "circle" to go through breast cancer. Back then, she made it seem so easy. I know now how hard it really was and I wish all the time I could have been there by her side, but it really wouldn't have made a difference. I couldn't have gotten rid of the cancer - she fought that battle on her own. And that is why cancer is the worst enemy. You have to fight, but you to do it all alone.
I watched cancer ravage my grandmother internally in just a matter of months. We - I - fought so hard for her everyday. I challenged the doctors, I pushed them to give her more aggressive treatment, but she refused. She said she didn't want to spend her last days sick and tired and feeling worse from treatment options than she already did from the cancer. I said I was ok with that, but if I ever saw her in one minute of pain, I was stepping in. The cancer took her before it could cause her to be in true physical pain, but I know that she was in pain everyday. Watching your body betray you and knowing there's not much that can be done has to be excrutiatingly painful.
I hate that Lara is watching her 4 year old son have to fight for his tiny life before he has ever had time to even appreciate it. He is dealing with something that adults aren't even prepared to deal with, but like I said, it doesn't discriminate. And all you can do on the outside is watch and hope and hug and love and pray that one day life will be back to normal.
I would give anything to have my grandmother still in my life, but I also am grateful for the 26 wonderfully joyous years I was able to spend with her. I am more than thankful that I have Alison in my life - healthy and happy - and that we can do things like walk 60 miles to bring breast cancer awareness and treatment to others.
In a nation of constant media indulgence, it is easy to become desensitized to things we are constantly inundated with - "cancer" being one of them. It's easy to just keep moving and not think about what it really means, or what it really is, until it comes into your life and makes you aware that it's very real and very present.
I refuse to live in fear of cancer, but I also will not be so blind to think that I am totally invincible. In the meantime, I will support breast cancer awareness, I will try to live assertively, I will treasure everyone in my life, and I will tell the ones I love how much I love them every chance I get.
