Cancer. I think we all love someone who has been impacted, or you know someone who loves someone, maybe you are that someone. I am someone who loved someone. My someone was 33 at diagnosis, and passed at the age of 34. As I sit here, a year and nearly nine months later I still don’t understand. I guess I never will.
Every article, every blog, every ad, anything “cancer” draws my attention. I feel for and carry those who are beginning their battles. I truly ache for you. I cry for strangers; I pray daily for those sitting on the chemo floor or radiation waiting room. I know today thousands of people are awaiting scan results and praying for a miracle. I am sensitive to every story, ultra-sensitive to loss. I hate cancer. Cancer is a monster that no one is prepared to fight.
Some cancer patients “win” their battles and others don’t. I’m not a fan of this, to “win” your battle with cancer. You survived your diagnosis and that requires an amount of strength no man or woman can measure. But so does dying from it.
If your story has a happy ending, if your loved one is “winning” their battle, if you have “won” your battle, please know, I am so happy for you. I celebrate your life, I honor your journey, I am thankful time is something you’ve been given. But please also understand that I can’t help but to be a little jealous, sometimes even angry. Your happy news comes with a sting for me. A sting that makes me want to scream, “this isn’t fair”! It isn’t. Nothing about cancer is fair.
There is no more strength in surviving cancer as there is dying from it. Please remember that. For every person who has been impacted by this monster we call cancer, I carry a little of you with me everywhere I go. You are strong! There is no winning or losing.
In memory of my person, who put up the fight of his life.