Cancer Sucks.

I actually do have some good things going on in my life right now, but I don't feel like sharing them with anyone at the moment. When I feel more up to it, I'll post them here. Until then, I'm going to talk about what is taking up more space in my consciousness right now. 

And it's not pretty.

It's the "Big C."

Cancer. 

I'm not the one with cancer, but four very dear family members of mine are now battling cancer, and I lost the most dear one to the disease. 

You try to stay upbeat and optimistic, especially in front of the sufferers, but it's hard. It's so hard.

One thing they don't tell you and you can't prepare for is how much cancer hurts emotionally for the loved ones of cancer patients. Their cancer doesn't just affect them, it sucks the emotional life force out of you as the family member. You feel at a complete loss so often that it is bewildering and disorienting.

And that is not even one half of one percent of what they are feeling inside but not expressing to you because they don't want to upset you. Ironic, isn't it? They're facing the battle of their lives, the time when they most need to drop everything and just focus 110% on their own health and well being and recovery, the only situation in which I would wholeheartedly approve of becoming a complete and total narcissist, and they worry about you.  

Example of an actual conversation I had with one of those cancer stricken relatives:

"How are you doing, X?"

"Oh, I'm just fine. I only have a little tiny bit of nausea after my treatments. The chemo really seems to be working!" (Smiles broadly.)

What I was actually thinking:

"No, you're not fine. I saw you barf in the parking lot at the restaurant we met at, and you left the table twice during the meal to yak your guts out in the bathroom. I know. I was in the stall next to you in the bathroom during your second trip. I timed how long you were in there when you excused yourself to go to the restroom. I stopped watching my watch at the 10 minute mark. And it took you at least another 5 minutes to rejoin the rest of the family at our table. I also saw the paper copy of your most recent laboratory results when it fell out of your pocket and opened as it fell to the floor. I used to work in a hospital lab, remember? I know how to read those reports, and I know damn well what they mean. 

Christ Almighty, you're brave. I'm scared shitless for you. If my doctor had handed me a copy of my most recent laboratory report and it looked like that, I sure as hell wouldn't be able to smile and insist that cancer was just some minor inconvenience, like a small dental cavity. I'd be too hysterical for words."

But thank you for your bravery. You are handling one of the worst situations a human being could ever face with a smile and a positive attitude and a grateful heart. You are showing me how to face any challenge in my life with dignity and class. 

You're also allowing me to believe, for just a small moment in time, that you aren't really that sick. That you're probably not going to die. That you aren't being ravaged from the inside out by your own traitorous body. That you're not constantly miserable and tired and in dreadful amounts of pain. 

See, that little white lie you tell and stoic face you present to the world takes me back to my childhood. My favorite game was called "pretend." I pretended to be many things:  an elf, Diana Ross and The Supremes, Grace Slick from Jefferson Airplane, a cat, a teacher, a doctor, a lawyer like my dad, a famous movie star, and many other characters. 

See, when you tell me it's going to be o.k., I can pretend that it will be, that you'll live happily ever after.

But then my deflowered adult mind kicks in, and I know. I know it's a total lie. Your chemo isn't working, you're getting worse. You're not going to live another 5 years. You might not even make it to this time next year. 

And that is not fair. Family members A, B, C, and D, you are all so dear to me,

Family member A, you are a wonderful man. You may not have always been there to see me when I visited your wife, Family member E, and you may not have the most demonstrative affect, but you have always been a kind and loving man in a quiet, steady way. I know you're in your 80s, but I wasn't ready to bury Family member E when she died of cancer five years ago. You showed me what love for a child could be like in your own deliberate, understated way, even when you weren't there physically. I don't care how old you get, I don't want to put you in the ground next to Family member E. Ever. 

Family member B, I haven't been as good to you in the past as I should have been. And I'm very sorry for that. You have always loved and accepted me as I am and are insightful enough to know that I am a deeply sensitive person (as I have always been) and that the best approach to use when teaching me a life lesson was the calm, rational, and positive one. Many people are not so fortunate as to have a gem like yourself in the family. I know that now, so please forgive my past hateful and selfish behaviors. Believe me when I say I love you with all of my heart. Because I do.

Family member C, you have encouraged my creativity and love for various crafts throughout my whole life. You've shown me that if I just thought outside the box and let my vivacious mind roam wild and free, I could create. So many people don't realize what it is to create, how liberating it is. I really appreciate that you saw that art and music and writing could help soothe my troubles.

Family member D, you are so kind and caring and warm. My first memory of you is not about the where, how, or why we met, it is your sparkle, shine, glowing smile, and vivaciousness. I liked you the moment you smiled and introduced yourself to me. Family member F is very fortunate to have married you.  

I know, dear ones, that you have no say in the matter when it comes to your expiration, but if you can, please hold on. I don't want to lose any of you because I will lose a large chunk of my heart with each of your deaths. I feel so helpless because all I can do is ask God to make you well, and God has a habit of ignoring my prayers. 

I know this is so selfish of me to ask of you, but please don't go. Stay with me. Play pretend. You are all right. You have to be. I love you all too much to lose you.