Gratitude has become a buzzword in our culture. Write down three things you’re grateful for, they say. Light a candle, sip some tea, and the world will feel brighter. But when you’re living with stage 4 cancer, gratitude feels different.
It’s not about pretending everything is fine, because mam, it is most definitely NOT fine. And it’s not even about minimizing the hard stuff – because sir, tried that been there, and it doesn’t work. It’s about learning to hold both truths at once: that life can be brutal and strikingly beautiful at the same time.
I remember feeling completely devastated one day in a routine appointment with my medical oncologist. I was nearing the end of my chemotherapy, and we were touching base to decide that in fact, my chemo would end, and I’d continue on only 3 targeted therapy infusions every 3 weeks as my maintenance treatment for the foreseeable future. Is forever too much to ask for?
We sat down and got right into it. I was surprised to hear that the decision to end chemo at that point was based on the research, which says that after six months there’s no good evidence that chemotherapy would continue to work the way it was and that the risks associated with side effects and long-term issues weren’t worth it.
K.
Basically, like all stage 4 cancer treatments, you gamble and hope for the best. It was working, it seemed like my cancer had stabilized, so now was the time to test out the next phase of treatment.
Then an innocent question to my primary oncologist, how much time do I have?
She took a breath and thought for a second, before telling me that if everything went perfectly then she doesn’t see any reason why I couldn’t get to 5 years.
The breath was knocked out of me. Did she just tell me TO MY FACE that I have five years to live? I meant how much time do I have on this treatment. Not how much time do I have to live. I started to tear up, as she started to say some kind and understanding things to what, make me feel better? She just punched me in the face, there is no feeling better.
I couldn’t believe it. My husband and my kids were waiting for me outside because IT WAS MY DAUGHTER’S BIRTHDAY and we had a plan to go out for a special breakfast after I had my quick-no-big-deal appointment. She was turning 8, so naturally it was easy for me to do the quick math and I realized I’d be lucky to see my daughter go to high school.
That’s cool. That’s totally normal.
Then the craziest thing happened when I got into the car with my family. I decided to crawl into the back seat and sit between my son and the birthday girl, leaving the front seat empty. My kids were confused but thought it was the coolest thing ever – they each immediately grabbed an arm and squeezed it a tight as they could and laid their heads down on each of my shoulders. They got so close to me you’d think we’d all merged into one person.
My husband looked at me from the rearview mirror and he could see my eyes watering as I desperately tried to keep it together. His face told me that he knew something not-good happened in my appointment, and I just shook my head implying that we can’t talk about it right now.
I knew, that he knew, that I knew something, that I didn’t want anyone to know yet, you know? You got it.
That crazy thing? A wave of gratitude washed over me. The feeling of these kids holding me so tight, the empathetic husband chauffeuring us to the breakfast restaurant, the sunshine in the sky on that beautiful summer morning… The gratitude didn’t erase the pain, but it gave it context.
That morning’s breakfast that sticks out in my mind and I’m grateful that I had the extra motivation to be extremely present with my family. Sure, I remember that appointment too – but it’s not my biggest memory from that day. I remember the conversation, the sticky syrup that somehow ended up in my son’s hair, the delicious warm meal, the spilled hot chocolate on my lap, and the laughter, among other things.
The tears kept coming to my eyes that morning, but it was because of the love and gratitude I was feeling. One might even say that the world looked brighter that day.
I’ve decided that this *jOuRN*ey of mine is going to include sharing some hard truths that often get overlooked. Or, in my case, sharing the hardest truths that I’ve been keeping to myself for so long. I guess I feel like I’m protecting others by keeping these kinds of details to myself, but now I’m choosing to believe that there’s some good that can come from being open and honest.
We didn’t get any pictures of that breakfast that morning, but we did get some pictures and video of dinner that night. Sandwiched between my kids, smiles big and eyes bright, wearing a matching dress with my daughter, port bandage popping out of my dress and very little hair to show, singing and laughter, stolen worried glances with my husband – it was a perfect example of how brutal and beautiful life can be all at the same time.
Oh, and don’t forget to light a candle, sip some tea and write down 3 things you’re grateful for today.