I tell people I’m fine, and it’s not a lie. Physically I am fine, mentally, not so much. I pretend to have days where I don’t have to think about cancer, chemo, other therapies and overall screwed-up genetics. It’s an illusion. It’s always on my mind but when someone wants to bring up “the white elephant” standing in the room, I rebuild that emotional brick wall. I lock people out with the simple words, “I’m fine.”
Cancer is a selfish disease and it can make the person diagnosed just as selfish. It makes you forget that there are people who care about you, love you and even need you to be okay. I didn’t pop into this world alone. I didn’t raise myself. Others have invested a great amount of time ensuring I stayed alive and matured. They fed me, cleaned me up, loved me, taught me, befriended me, confided in me and simply needed me.
My family and friends stand like warriors atop a hill, waiting to be called to war. They are pained to watch below as their comrade is being slain and they are not allowed to move. No voice calls them to arms and they suffer; only to watch from a distance. For that, I am sorry. I’ve decided that I am not strongest if I stand alone. I was egotistical, narcissistic and protective. Why? I thought that, that trilogy of armor would protect me and all of my faithful warriors.
How’s that working for you?
It’s not.
It’s hard to admit, I’m scared, unsure, confused and angry. All of those words denote weakness and vulnerability.
(Me, at my most vulnerable; small, thumb in mouth and protected by a dad and big brother.)
If this battle ensues, I choose no longer to stand alone. I no longer believe I can jump over canyons. I’m going to try baby steps and occasionally grab on to someone’s shoulder to steady myself.
How does this relate to NASCAR?
I have a big Daytona 500 Party every year. If the Oncologist pushes Monday morning for chemotherapy I will put him off. Nothing needs to or will happen until after that race. In the past I have had friends fly in from the Florida Keys, Central Florida and Texas, just for this party.
I’m choosing my friends, family and love of racing over cancer. It’s a disease. It is not who I am.
5 comments:
YAY YAY YAY!!! I dont know whether to be happy or cry - because I'm so glad to hear you say you're not fine.
Now wait though; I don't want you to be not fine . . but it was making me worry when you were being so stoic.
I couldn't tell what I was worried about. I was just worried. And maybe I wondered why I was so shocked to hear about my own mortality when you took things so much better.
We had our first cancer surgeries the same day and in an odd twist of timing I had a real breakdown sobbathon this week for the first time in this whole process, while you were somehow moved to write about how you're feeling.
I wonder if there's not some kind of unofficial timing mechanism inside our brains that kicked in and said it was time to get real and deal with what we're facing beyond just saying the words?
Let's promise to support each other and encourage each other to process the ongoing series of events that make up the Cancer diagnosis and whatever happens next in the way that works best for us.
Even if I'm falling apart, I'm going to do my best to be here for you. Because you've got an exciting full life to lead and I want to know you're still in there with both feet.
And I want BOTH of you to know that the Hill Warriors have got your back. :-):-)
There's no book on 'how to behave when you've got cancer' - but it looks like you've got the beginnings of a good book on 'how to put cancer in perspective and keep living' in the works.
((hug))
Go you!
Hope it's a fabulous party!! :)
Beth you've always known I love you and Jeff. You're right. You were being selfish and I'm sorry I said that but then again I'm not. I have known you for twenty some odd years and will know you for ALOT more. I know that you went through what I dread with your father and then this happens. Get a big bite, chew steadily and swallow. Make sure you got that last bite down cause the next mouthful is right behind. I love you Beth Ann. You have been my friend when I needed one, a sounding board when my words fell on deaf ears and last but not least a confidant. Your friend ALWAYS, Bubba
Dear Beth,
I had no doubt that you would get to this in your own time. Being strong does not mean that you have to do everything on your own. You are a strong woman and now you know that truly strong people use *all* resources available to them. I do understand why you wanted to keep to yourself. Been there, done that, not with cancer but kidney disease. There's nothing to forgive! You did what worked for you at the time and now you are doing something else because you realize it will work better. Be easy on yourself. You are doing the best you can. If you decide sometime in the future that you can't take another person asking you about the cancer, then take a step back again. You're allowed. And we will all understand. I'm so proud of you, Beth. I couldn't love you more if you were my own daughter. I know your Dad is there with you, helping to hold you up when you fall apart and loving you through this whole experience. And so are all of us who love you.
Caren
Post a Comment