Hospice and The Beast

As many of you know, I recently started Hospice. Heart to Heart has been amazing. The nurses are incredible. They come out anytime I need them. I have been having multiple seizures and they have been by my side through it all. I am so blessed to have them in my life.

I finally got a car yesterday! I purchased a Chevrolet Suburban. It is a 4x4 and has a grill to die for! I call it "The Beast". Again, God blessed me. I know He has great things in store for my family and I.

I have not been able to write here lately because of the seizures and getting adjusted to all of my new medication. I apologize sincerely. My emotions have all been a jumble. 

How frequently do we apologize for things that we cannot even help? I think what we’re trying to say is, I feel for you. I’m sympathetic to what you’re going through. I’m grateful it didn’t happen to me, even. We don’t REALLY mean we’re sorry when we say it over something like this. But to a near stranger, saying anything else feels too intimate and personal.

But we do it to our friends and family too. I’m sorry. I hate those words.

it doesn’t mean I don’t want someone to apologize when an apology is necessary, myself included, but I’m taking the words: I’m Sorry–out of my vocabulary.

From now on, it will be something like, “I’m grateful you trust me enough to share your pain with me.” instead of “I’m sorry you’re hurting.” Or maybe, “Thank you for cleaning up the mess I made.” instead of “I’m sorry you had to clean that up for me.”

Because I’m sick and not able to do everything I want to do, a lot of times I feel guilty when people have to do things for me. I’m changing the dynamic of that and moving to a place of gratitude about it instead. No more being ‘sorry’ for what I can’t do. Instead, I’m going to be grateful for what others do for me. i always HAVE been grateful, but the guilt gets in the way of gratitude. Maybe if i change the language, the feelings inside will change too. I’m a writer. Language is everything to me. It’s powerful.

I come here nearly every day to write something and almost never end up posting anything. Sometimes, I write for hours and nothing I say is what I want to say so I don’t post it. I feel I’m better for having written it. I guess I needed to get it out. But it’s not what I wanted or needed to say to someone else to read. Sometimes, I start typing and realize I don’t have a clue what I want to talk about. Other times, I have so much to say, I have trouble focusing my thoughts in a direction to write about. Any way it goes, I end up not putting up a new post.

So stick with me. When I go radio silent, sometimes, it’s because I need someone else to reach out to me… you can do that, any time, you know. Other times, it’s because I just don’t know what to say or how to say what’s going on with me inside.

When you live with a terminal illness, this is what happens. You stabilize for a time and you get comfortable thinking that everything is okay, and that you’ll just be able to live your life like this forever. And it’s like just when you get used to being a certain way, something new comes along to remind you, oh, yeah, you’re sick, honey, you’re going to die from this, you know, don’t get too comfortable.

I am not in denial. I'm not.I know my condition is serious. I know I'm really sick. I do. I know this.

It’s like every time I get sick, then I get better from that little sickness, but I never get ‘quite’ as well as I was before I got sick. It’s like a slow slide into death instead of a big bang of any sort. I adjust and think, hey, I can handle this, and then something else comes along.

Like I said, chipping away at me, a little at a time. For the last two years after the acute episode, I was fighting to get better and better. Now, I’ve stabilized and it’s like I’m fighting to maintain, and I feel like I’m losing ground.

And for some reason, I feel like it’s my fault. Like I’m doing something wrong. I keep feeling like if I would just do something different, better, eat better, exercise more, try harder, sleep better, move more, meditate, something, anything… I keep feeling like I have some control over this, and there’s some guilt involved in it. I don’t have any control over it. I don’t.

But there are moments when I have a lot of hope too, moments when even my doctors have a lot of hope, that I still have a few years of good life left in me, as long as I keep doing the good things I’m doing. I can have more than we originally expected, even, but at the same time, I’m constantly reminded that one little thing can take all that away from me too. Then I remind myself that no one has anything guaranteed and maybe they’ll find a cure for my condition before it takes me out. I don’t know. I just don’t know.

And maybe I do believe in miracles. Maybe.

Or maybe I really am in denial.

I don’t think I am.

But maybe I am.

Maybe I am.

Or maybe I WANT to be… I readily admit that I’m keeping several writing projects open-ended, ’cause there’s no way I can die in the middle of writing a book. The universe wouldn’t do that to me. What’s that one song say? “Who could ever walk away at chapter 21?”

But every now and then, I break down and I lose it. Every now and then, I get numb and depressed. Every now and then, it all gets to be too much to handle.

And I do cry. And I am sad. And I do ask Why?… I do all those things. I get angry. And I yell and I rage against the system and I question the existence of god… and I do all that you would expect someone in my position to do.

And it’s not easy.

And that’s the truth.

Love you all and truly mean it, and God loves you too!

Shanna xoxo

Here is the link to our Go Fund Me Page to help with medical and travel expenses: gofund.me/hope4shanna2016

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

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