Yin in the Yang

My wonderful, handsome, blue-eyed husband got a job today! God is amazing! And, I have a great friend, Jenny, who will be here to take care of me while he is working. I could not ask for more. It has been a rough couple of days. I have had to process the cancer spreading and some things my daughter has said to me that has made the sadness even worse.

"Daddy, when you kiss my boo-boo's it isn't the same. Who will kiss my boo-boo's when mommy is gone?"

"Daddy, if we move to Arizona, we could drive to the beach so I could write mommy's name in the sand so she could see it from heaven."

Yeah...those statements killed me. And then I began thinking of my princess getting married. Who will be there to help her get dressed? I am her mommy. I cannot even fathom the thought of someone else taking my place.

All the small affronts that become looming problems in our minds can often obscure the life that is happening right in front of our noses. It is easy to read too much into an offhand remark, to assign motivation to a tone of voice. It is easy to read weary body language as frustrated, and a comment born of exhaustion as a personal attack. I have often found that when I get irritated with Kevin, it actually has nothing to do with the glass left on the floor, but everything to do with how tired I am.

Being a good person is no small feat. Sometimes life is really hard.

And my daughter is feeling the blunt of just how hard life can be. I wish I could take it all away and tell her that mommy is going to be just fine, but then I would be lying to her, and that is something I just don't do.

To say that this past year has been life-changing is quite an understatement. I certainly appreciate things more than I used to, and I think I have gotten bolder and more outspoken than I used to be, if that is possible. And I have connected with a whole lung cancer community full of incredibly strong and wonderful people, who I now consider "my lung cancer family." Sadly, I have learned that this disease can strike absolutely anybody.

Craig: diagnosed at age 60
Janet: diagnosed at age 55
Mark: diagnosed at age  47
Lisa: diagnosed at age 41
Molly: diagnosed at age 39
Samantha: diagnosed at age 33
Emily: diagnosed at age 28
Burton: diagnosed at age 23
Corey: diagnosed at age 22

The thing we all have in common is that we were all diagnosed with stage IV. Stage IV. The other thing we all have in common?  None of us deserved this.

Here are some sobering facts:

• Lung cancer is the second leading cause of all deaths in the US.
• Lung cancer is kills almost 2x as many women as breast cancer and 3x as many men as prostate cancer. 
• Lung cancer in people who have never smoked is the 6th leading cause of US cancer deaths.

And yet, I choose to remain hopeful.I know that I will be one of the lucky ones. Things are changing fast in cancer research. If I would have gotten this a few years earlier, I probably wouldn't be here today. If I hadn't pushed the doctors to find out what was truly wrong with me, I might not be here today. Chalk it up to stubbornness, perseverance, or just dumb luck, I am very thankful to be here talking to all of you today.

It's a strange reality to live in, which is part of why I feel like the line between real life and fiction sometimes seems so blurry. I think part of what makes it all seem so unreal is the juxtaposition of things. I spend my days with my adorable kids who are so full of life and energy while I am not, then I check my phone and read about another person entering hospice (which I turned down). I look and feel relatively normal (other than being exhausted all of the time), but know that my odds of being around 4 years from now are less than 4%.

I'm tired of being reminded of the fleeting nature of our time on Earth.

I'm tired of being aware that this can all end so quickly.

I'm tired of knowing how important it is to stop and smell the roses, that the frost is coming soon,

I'm tired of happy moments carrying the pang of realization that this can be gone in the blink of an eye. 

Understanding the importance that living for today is a terribly heavy weight to carry.

"when Time and life shook hands and said Goodbye."

Tomorrow is not promised to anyone. Don't dread growing old. It is a privilege that not everyone gets to enjoy.

What a joy it would be to grow old
To watch my hair turn gray
To see my face crease and wrinkle
With the fingerprint of time.


What a privilege it would be
To trade my near-sighted specs for those with a line or two
To shout, "eh, sonny?"
And debate the virtues of denture creams.


How wondrous to watch my skin sag
To be called "Over the Hill"
Or "past my prime"
Or Granny.

What a joy it would be to grow old.

Meeting new people is sometimes a bit awkward for me now, since I never know if or when I should drop the "I have cancer" bomb. I still have my hair, so there is no tell-tale sign. Overall, besides the oxygen tank that everyone stares at, there is really no external way to tell that I have anything wrong.

Yet, lung cancer has become an important part of my identity. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of it. I have become active in the lung cancer community, not as active as I would like, but I have been really sick here lately. I have made new friends because of it. It has profoundly affected who I am and how I think about life. So, like it or not, it is a huge part of who I am.

I am not ashamed of having cancer and I am happy to talk about it with people, but the initial coming out is wrought with uncertainty. Will I get the "pity face?" Will I get the list of things I should/should not eat/drink/breathe/etc...? Will I get the awful silence that follows the exchange, "What stage is it?" "Stage IV..........."

There must be other people who feel this way, people who have an important part of themselves that is somewhat a touchy subject. Perhaps this is how members of the LGBTQ community feel? Perhaps people who have experienced a life-changing event experience this? There is no external marker to show that something big is going on, but it is there, and it is important.

I'd love to hear from others who have felt this way, if you would be so generous to share your thoughts. You can either comment below or send me an email to thebrocks2001@att.net. And if I am way off base, tell me that too!

I used to say that I wanted to live a hundred lives in my lifetime. The upside of this cancer journey is that it is helping me to walk in other peoples shoes and see life from their point of view.

There is the yin in that yang.

Love you all...mean it...and God loves you too,

Shanna

Official prayer warrior page for my fight against lung cancer: facebook.com/hope4shanna

Official blog Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/shannabananahealthandfitness