We have a family counseling session on Friday. Every time I have attempted counseling in the past, it has failed. But, I realize I am the problem. I have an extremely difficult time of opening up to someone I don't know. Isn't that the whole point of counseling? Aren't you supposed to have someone who is completely neutral listen to what ails you? My form of opening up is not in verbal communication. I am screwed.
I started having seizures which is completely out of the norm for me. My husband took me to the ER...and I was given a big bag of Keppra. All it did was cause me to zone out. My primary oncologist will not be back in the office until tomorrow. I am anxious to get to talk to her again about what she saw in the ER. She was waiting for the final reports to come back before she made any decisions. She told me that when they came in, I would more than likely be admitted for observation because not only am I having seizures, my calcium and sodium are low (and they are causing me to have immense leg pain). I am so ready to get off this roller-coaster.
My beautiful daughter laid in the bed with me tonight and drew me sweet pictures and love notes. I get love notes from both her and my youngest son on an almost daily basis. Watching mommy suffer is terribly difficult on them. How do I let them know that I too am afraid? I know there is a long painful road ahead of them, but I also know that they have a loving supportive father and an amazing support network that will shepherd them through this. I have to believe, for my own sanity, that they will weather this tragedy and that their spirit will remain unbroken despite the powerful blow of losing me. I just hold them and touch them as much as possible. And every night, when I leave them to their slumber, I call out, "I love you and sweet dreams." Just as they have always bid me good night.
I have always believed that our souls choose their destinies before coming to earth. This notion appeals to the control freak in me (go figure) and, today, I gave this idea some thought. Why would my children pick a mother who was only going to leave them before they were ready? Why would they put themselves through that much pain and agony? Then it occurred to me, why wouldn't they? They get to spend whatever time they do have with me being more loved than any child could ever possibly imagine. When I tell you that my kids are my life, I mean that. I rarely go anywhere without them. I could not imagine not having them. They have given my life meaning when it used to be so empty.
My oldest son has suffered the most. He has never been one to channel his emotions positively. He knows he is going to lose me and he copes by engaging me in some sort of a dance in which he pulls me in close only to end up resisting me in the end. He can be so infuriating one minute, and so lovable the next. He is exhausting. He wants so much to have me near but cannot bare to need me that much knowing I will someday be gone. His senses are so fine-tuned that he overlooks nothing. So, he pushes me away, sometimes physically with angry feet and hands and sometimes with vicious words. What can I do? When he pulls me close, I hold on for dear life. "My son, I love you so much." And when he pushes me away, I try not to take it personally for I know his heartache. Sometimes I cannot bare to even look at my children; it hurts too much. And I wonder if sometimes they look at me and wonder, "How can you leave us? We need you."
What a burden to bare on such small shoulders. So I keep asking God, "Please, I need more time. Just let their shoulders grow broad enough to bare the burden and then I can go. They are not ready yet."
I find myself wanting to wrap their hearts in bubble wrap. I am amazed these days at how much the area around my heart physically aches. How does this happen physiologically? How does our sadness settle into this vital organ and emanate from this place? I look at my children now, and I know they will feel this same pain when I am gone. I want to stop it from happening because I cannot fathom the thought of them hurting this much. I am going to leave them without a mother. And my heart breaks for them to the point that I almost cannot look at them. Intellectually, I know this is not my failure, but it feels like it is; nonetheless. I realize that the all of the sadness I feel is because of all of the joy I have already experienced. The joy and the sorrow are intertwined and inseparable.
All the pain and desperation that I feel now is merely the inescapable consequence of all the joy that has filled my life. This pathos is a sign of a life well lived, filled with love, joy, friendship, and adventure.
So, I think about the bubble wrap that I want to place around the hearts of my children and how much I want to spare them of this pain, and I realize that I not only cannot but that I should not do it as well. We cannot become fully human without experiencing the complete range of human emotions any more than we can build an immune system without exposure to germs. There cannot be joy without sorrow, satiety without hunger, fulfillment without emptiness. We need the contrast of emotions to weave the tapestry of life. That is how we create a magnificent work of art rather than a monotonous facsimile. It is hard to accept this. It nudges us away from the narrow comfort zones in which we inhabit to a life in which we allow ourselves to be more vulnerable.
I keep working at my tapestry, and I hope my children will learn through my example that it is better to live fully and risk all the inherent pain than to go through life feeling nothing and missing the richness that it offers.
Life is simply beautiful. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Always,
Shanna xoxoxo
I'm participating in an event to raise money to fight lung cancer—and I need your help!
I'm planning to attend LUNGevity Foundation's National HOPE Summit in Washington, DC, in May - it's a special conference just for lung cancer survivors like me. If I can raise $1000 or more in donations, LUNGevity will cover my travel expenses, including US round-trip transportation and hotel accommodations.
Proceeds from this fundraiser will benefit LUNGevity Foundation, the leading private provider of research funding for lung cancer. LUNGevity Foundation is firmly committed to making an immediate impact on increasing quality of life and survivorship of people with lung cancer by accelerating research into early detection and more effective treatments, as well as providing community, support, and education for all those affected by the disease.
Please join me in my efforts to stop lung cancer—the leading cancer killer—now!
We are selling t-shirts and hoodies for our prayer warriors. The t-shirts are $20 and the hoodies are $30. If you live locally, you can pay me directly, or you can pay online. https://www.customink.com/g/ysw0-00ae-0juz
No comments:
Post a Comment