My little two have kept me entertained all day. They have a play for church on Sunday, so they have been practicing their lines. Of course, Tristan has to at some point throw in his best Terminator voice. I was laughing so hard. They definitely keep me on my toes. Who needs TV when you have them?
This is Kevin's long week at work. He will be working the whole weekend. I have to think of some fun activities to do with the kids while he is working. My best friend, Jenny, is bringing me a tree tomorrow night, so the kids and I will decorate it when Kevin goes to work. Sunday, we may have to have family game night or family movie night. Anything to keep our minds off of everything. I am planning on teaching them tomorrow since we missed two weeks of school instead of just the one like everyone else. I am going to have them working hard to get caught back up over the next two weeks.
I have been thinking about all of the new perspectives I have gained since my diagnosis. I have learned so much from having lung cancer. I have learned how to live with an incurable illness; with the fear, the pain, being sick, losing parts of my life bit by bit. I've learned that all that really matters are the people in your life, and I have learned that most people are still incredibly kind.
Still, there are many people who cannot see past themselves. They are too needy to help you or hear you. Some ignore you and disappear. Some brush off what you have to say. Some will tell you what to do or what not to do as if it is some sort of talisman that will protect them from your fate. Many will not extend the type of kindness to you that you need or ask for; and they are unable to understand the hard place you are in, they can only see themselves.
They can't understand the difficulty in learning to face your own death- your obliteration- or understand that you are living with real suffering beyond what they may know. What feels like a lack of caring and dismissal hurts more than it would if you were healthy and not experiencing your impending death, because you know there is no time for change or understanding.
It feels hopeless, and so rather than try to explain something or continue on, we must let go for our own mental health. One wants to imagine that somebody will wake up and understand, but the reality is that they will not- even after you have died. Their own viewpoint is the only one they can see. Many people go through life that way, with blinders on, not only unable to see you, but unable to see everybody but themselves.
But this makes the ones who do try to understand, who are generous and humble and kind, who try to learn..so much more special. And if you are reading this, you fall into that category, and I am extraordinarily grateful for you.
Even knowing that death will eventually be my outcome, I still continue to blog...I still continue to live while I can. I write from the viewpoint of someone who inevitably will not survive cancer. And many people can accept that, and some- well they cannot.
The kindest thing you can do for me is to just listen and be a shoulder. Dying is not easy for me either.
Kevin and I have spent the last two nights talking about what would happen when I die. I know it really all sounds terribly morbid, but we have children that we need to plan for when that time comes, so we have to talk about it. Of course, we talk about so much more than just death.
My appetite has been poor. I don't ever feel hungry but I force myself to eat something one time a day. I have lost 15 pounds in a week (if you want a good diet, get the Cancer diet plan). I have been in so much pain lately (mostly in the middle of my chest and in my legs), and so far (we haven't seen the scans yet), they cannot pinpoint a reason for my extensive pain other than the anemia. I am not a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but do you want to know what I think?
Cancer effing hurts, even if it's not technically impinging on something or interfering with mechanics. It just does.
Like all of us, I live with many uncertainties. Before my cancer diagnosis, most of the uncertainties I thought about were not of the "life and death" magnitude that I think about now. Before my diagnosis, I was able to adjust the burden of my risk by actions...you know...I had some control. Counter-balancing daily uncertainties are those things in life that are certain...the "for sures". If I didn't feel like cooking my husband and children would still love me and if I didn't take my umbrella when it was raining, I would get wet.
The only certainty in life is death. This statement is impossible to argue. But since life can last a long time, there are a bazillion uncertainties to navigate and when life is going well, who thinks about the certainty of death?
There are three general certainties in my life that have made it a little easier to manage all of the uncertainties. They also help me to know what to expect:
1. I serve a forgiving God...one who is capable of all things because of Christ.
2. I love my husband, children, family, and friends.
3. My dog will continue to whine when I close my bedroom door until I let her in.
Love you all! Mean it! May you find peace tonight. Tell your loved ones just how much you love them before you go to bed...you may not get another chance.
Always,
Shanna xoxo
P.S. We are selling hoodies to help cover the cost of copays, medicine, and travel expenses. These are super cool and will keep you warm all winter long! Check them out for me. If you would rather, we also have a go fund me set up as well!
No comments:
Post a Comment