Cancer is a terrible disease. Well, actually cancer is a label for several hundred different diseases that we call by this one name, but it's still horrible. And the outcome, depending on the type and stage, can be positive or negative. If you think I'm talking solely in terms of life and death, black and white, you're wrong. I'm talking about how we face cancer. Our reactions, our actions, even our inactions -- they all define us. Cancer may choose among us, but how we choose to manage this disease can make all the difference in the world.
Each of us knows someone who died from cancer of one form or another. Each of us knows many survivors in varying stages. But we are human, and in that humanness, there is a tendency to want to flee the sick. Maybe it's a survival thing. Maybe we just don't want to be reminded of our own mortality. Inevitably, many cancer patients find their social circle growing smaller when their cancer grows larger, as friends and family sometimes turn away, unable to face the expected heartache of saying goodbye to someone presumed to be on the road to death.
Is it the bald head of chemotherapy and the pallor that makes one look like a prisoner from Auschwitz that we can't stand to see? Maybe that's part of it. Or is it that we can't seem to bear the struggle of day-to-day living with cancer, the inability to eat, to walk, to function? What if that impression is wrong? What if, rather than seeing the worst of life, we might see some of the most glorious moments of human spirit and endurance? What if there's another way to look at cancer patients that will help us to live better, more meaningful lives?
When we embrace the cancer community, it's not all pink ribbons and "life is good". We know that as surely as we know some people will not be cured and their lives will end too quickly, some people will manage their disease for a while and we will have those precious months and years to enjoy, and some people will survive the disease and eventually die of other causes. But when you or someone you love lives with cancer, the quality of that life becomes paramount, no matter how much time on this earth is left.
The pain of having cancer is never more apparent than at the holidays. This is the time of year we so love to celebrate, and when someone we love can't find the energy to do normal things, it's a tough reminder that magic doesn't happen for everyone. This is the season of miracles and the sharp jab to our hearts might make us hesitate or turn away. But we should never turn away from a cancer patient or from the cancer community, especially at this time of year. Why? Because we might miss some of the most important lessons of spirit and courage and love.
I say this as I follow several long-distance friends with cancer. Some have found success this year. Remission is a glorious word, one we celebrated with great expectations for continued success. It makes us want to do the happy dance.
Others haven't been as lucky. New tumors arrived with a ferocity that is both stunning and terrifying. Old treatments failed, new treatments failed, and we watched as friends fell into that black hole of uncertainty. Every time another person teeters on the edge of life, we ache, but we ache together. Every time a member of the cancer community dies, we die a little too, but we're there for each other. There is strength in numbers.
Recently, I read a heart-wrenching message from one long-distance friend. Someone she cared about lost the battle and she raged against the unfairness of it all. She was angry. She was passionate. I took heart from her diatribe against cancer. I thought about the young woman who passed away and what she would have taken from this. To know that you matter, that you were someone special in the eyes of such an eloquent and fiery champion, who wouldn't want that kind of friend? No one is ever really gone with so many wonderful people to insist on remembering.
But the most glorious lesson I've learned in recent months comes from a young mother who has faced some enormous obstacles in her cancer journey. She has young children who depend on her. She has a husband, parents, in-laws, siblings, other relatives, friends, and even strangers hanging on her every word. We follow the ups and downs of her cancer treatment with hands on our hearts and prayers on our lips. "Please let this go well for her."
Cancer really is a soap opera of the heart. We never know when an infection might set in and spoil everything or some tiny miracle might be found as a tumor is pushed back. In some ways, living with cancer is the ultimate melodrama. Sometimes that's where the human spirit makes the most progress, whether we want it or not, whether we're ready for it or not.
During Christmas week, I followed the postings of this long-distance friend as she tried to pack as much fun into the holiday as she could, not for herself, but for her kids. "They deserve this," she insisted, and she's right. She reached out to her following, explaining what she wanted to do, asking for help to make it happen. People responded. It was more than just hopes and prayers. It was a community's belief that good things can still happen, even when cancer knocks you on your fanny. That's why it's so important for cancer families to remain connected to the support circle at every stage of cancer treatment and management.
A mother really can fight tooth and nail for her kids, even as this disease continues to smack her to the ground. Why is that important? Because she still has power to change the world. Every time my long-distance friend stands up to get something for her kids, she's stronger than the disease. Her body may not be able to support her at this moment in time. She may feel unable to do the very simple things in life. But there's still a fighting spirit here who demands to be heard, who insists on succeeding. She is motivated by love to give her children what they most need, the very best of her, and in that effort, everyone wins.
Her children will carry these lessons with them through life. The tough times have shaped them in ways that other children will never know. Was it unfair? Absolutely. Was it painful? Without a doubt. But these children have the gift of love like no other children have it. Come what may, they will know that you keep fighting to do right by those you love. They will know that when the chips are down, you find ways to get around the obstacles. They will know that love matters, family matters, and you don't walk away. That's because they have an amazing mother. Cancer didn't make her that way. She was amazing before cancer. But when the disease took hold of her body, she decided how she would live her life with cancer. She recognized that she had the power and she grabbed it, refusing to let go. Cancer would not defeat her, because her spirit was greater than a disease. And she was right. She is so much more than cancer. That is what we celebrate with her. That's what we learn when we follow her journey. And that's what we can apply in our own lives.
When we come together, when we share, we're learning to help each other rise above the hardships, the brutality of cancer, to embrace what really matters and to leave behind those ordinary things that have no real value in the struggle of life over death. It's the triumph of spirit over sorrow, of determination over despair. A cancer community really isn't just about cancer or about living with cancer. It's about surviving and thriving despite the cancer and about not letting cancer have the power to decide how you find the true joy in life. Fate may have brought cancer to your doorstep without your permission, but your destiny is still your own to make. Learn from the cancer community and choose wisely. Live life, love life, and love.
Wishing you all a Happy, Healthy New Year.
