I feel like we can't ever really predict where we're headed at all in life. We can try, we can plan things and make goals and maybe even reach them, but actually getting to the finish line is an allusion.
I keep forgetting how far I've come, how many rooms I have been in. I don't know if I am at the back of the line or at the front. I don't know if I am being scammed or if I am almost at the ride that I have heard can be really good.
Life...what if it can be really good? What if the ride really is worth all this waiting?
I'm frustrated, I'm confused as hell, but I think I am where I am meant to be. I am not comfortable, but I do not want to die right now. I want to live...for my kids. I'm moving. Walking from room to room is better than just standing in one spot.
I wish I could tell you where I am headed. I hate this darkness that the sickness has taken me on. I keep questioning my sanity as I try so hard to recover.
I feel like I need your help, but I don't even know how to ask for it. I don't even know what I want. I worry that I shouldn't share my health struggles to an audience so big, but then I feel like others benefit by it. I feel so vulnerable.
I am not really an outspoken person in public, but I can talk about anything when it comes to writing. I am a very shy and timid person in reality.
I have lost my routine, my independence, my accountability. I only leave my house to go to doctor's appointments. As a result, my ties to the world are unraveling. All I really have is social media.
The world is going on without me. I cannot afford to lose anymore.
I feel sad, but it's also this numbness of emotion. This numbness feels better than being in physical agony, counting down to the moment my skull explodes.
Ugh, I know all of this sounds really bleak. And I guess it is. Depression is just one of those things that comes with having a terminal illness. I can still smile on the drop of the dime, but once I start thinking about everything I am losing, I can no longer hide the sadness. I begin losing my sanity.
This numbness sucks but I feel like I have to deal with it. This way, I can face reality. I can see my family and friends. I can put on a happy face. I can make the best of what I have.
I feel overwhelmed with depression right now. I need a miracle. Screw logic! What do I really want? What can I wish for?
Here are my wishes: Of course I want millions of dollars, a cure for pulmonary fibrosis, a cure for lung cancer (for all cancers really), world peace, and good food and drinking water for everyone on the planet. But, what do I want right now?
- A full week of being able to breath without struggling to catch my breath
- Something concrete that makes me feel hopeful instead of stressing out about dying in the next three years
- Enough physical and emotional strength to meet more goals
- To meet new people and acquire new and lasting friendships
- And for more wishes
The only person she fits in with is the mommy version of me. That is the only thing I am sure I am good at. And the fifteen year old version of me from Grade-Nine...miserable and alone. Sure I have my husband. And it's great. I love him dearly. But, I have always felt so alone...like the world just doesn't hear me. Like the only people that honestly know I exist are my children. That fifteen year old me was always looking for someone to look up to. Someone who cut through all the bullshit. Someone who was real, someone who cared about things beyond what was "hot" in magazines and what was spewed out on TV. I saw unhappy kids and unhappy adults and cut myself because at least that made me feel real. My pain mattered in these moments.
I'm turning 36 soon. That's grown-up, right?
Like the "crazy" one in the Breakfast Club movie, I'm aware that "when you grow up, your heart dies."
Most of the time, it feels like I am never going to have any adult life or security because I refuse to let my heart die. I'm stubborn as hell. I see enemies everywhere.
Except here, with you.
I can be real here. I imagine friends out there past computer screens, skipping into hungry eyes and hungrier hearts.
You are filling their shoes. Thank you.
My younger self reads this blog. She likes it. It makes her hate herself less.
I refuse to let my heart die.
"You can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one." I've been building up to shifting my mindset and starting a new chapter in this Lung Cancer and Pulmonary Fibrosis journey for a while now. My mom says that I am no longer Shanna. I have become my illness, which is something I never wanted to do. Tuesday will be six months since I received my diagnosis and I still feel like I am moving in slow motion. I am ready to change. Or, at least try to. Or, perhaps a better way to say this is, I am ready to live my life differently than I have since the day the doctor told me I had three years to live.
I am not in denial about my diagnosis. I try not to post the survival statistics here, because, ugh, they are awful. But, I think it's important to share so others understand my situation. The median survival rate for people with pulmonary fibrosis is just two to three years with 2/3 dying within five years. The five year survival rate for people with Stage IV lung cancer has recently doubled. That's the good news. The bad news is that it started at 1% so doubling to 2% doesn't exactly have life insurance vendors flocking to my doorstep. So, how do ya like them apples? They suck. This is an extremely shitty bushel of apples.
When I understood the gravity of my diagnosis, I swiftly adopted a new identity. No longer was I Shanna, the primary caretaker mom, wife, food connoisseur, chef, the creative putterer. Now, I was Shanna the PF and LC patient. I immersed myself in the world of the sick, researching, blogging, thinking about my diagnosis in some form or another almost constantly. I could hardly introduce myself without mentioning it, "Hi, I'm Shanna and I have pulmonary fibrosis and stage IV lung cancer. What's your name?" Super fun conversation starter by the way...not awkward at all. This world, quite simply, took over my life, my identity, my everything.
Living exclusively as "Shanna the PF and LC patient" is exhausting and not what I want anymore. I am ready to loosen my grip on both of them, so I can shift and grab for something else. But, letting go of them as my primary identity feels scary, and perhaps here's where the "brave" part of dealing with terminal illness that everyone references kicks in- it's knowing the truth and living on in spite of it. I know exactly how much I have to lose, and how devastatingly quickly I can lose it. I've been burned once, badly, trundling along through life as though I had plenty of time. And now, I find myself in the hospital, barely able to breathe to make it downstairs. I feel somewhat naive, stupid even, to even try and re-engage in my pre-cancer/pf lifestyle. I don't want to open myself up to that excruciating wake-up call again. And, I am not sure how to avoid it except to constantly be prepared for the worst- to curtail living in order to be ready to die within weeks.
Some patients are able to cope by telling themselves that their cancer isn't real, isn't deadly. That's not me. "Head in the sand" is not my dysfunctional coping mechanism of choice (chocolate is and I have the ass to prove it). Look; This will never, ever be OK, everything I experience in life will forevermore be through the lens of my diagnosis, and proceed with my life. I can be a diligent patient, advocate, and blogger and resume teaching my children, being a wife, mothering, and doing my best to cook. Because, even if I am dying, until I actually die, I am still living, I don't know how long I will get to live here, but none of us do. What if I am in the 2%? What if my diagnosis wasn't a death sentence, but an invitation to live the days I have left as fully as I can? I can live like I'm dying AND like I'm living. Because I am. We all are.
Love you all mean it....and God loves you too,
Shanna xoxoxo
LUNGevity National Hope Summit: 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!
Official prayer warrior page for my fight against lung cancer: facebook.com/hope4shanna
Official blog Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/shannabananahealthandfitness
My Go Fund Me Page (any and all donations will help with my medical funds) gofundme.com/hope4shanna2016 
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