Cancer: A Lesson in Humility

Mood:  humbled

This post has taken me nearly two weeks to write. So bear with me....


I don't know who reads this blog, I suspect my parents. My sister. Maybe my brother. Close friends from the east coast. A few co-workers from Iowa. Other than that, I have no idea. Many of you probably already know then, that my husband Jeff had a brief battle with testicular cancer in April. We got the all clear and he's been having two month check-ups.

His last one was August 30.

I hate going to the cancer center at the hospital. I hate that we have to go. I hate dragging Malcolm along as he sings and chatters and Jeff and clutch to what little sanity we have left before the appointment. I hate the waiting room.

Last time we walked in, sat down and within two minutes watched a woman have a complete breakdown as she left the office. I've never heard wailing and sobbing so loudly in public before. And it's not at all that I was uncomfortable, but I was completely helpless. I don't know what prompted her tears and it really is irrelevant. I wanted to hug her, to tell her she mattered, to do anything that might momentarily relieve the pain in her heart. All I could do was wipe my own eyes and focus on Malcolm reading the story he had picked up from the front of the office. Jeff and I caught each other's eyes and the heartbreak I felt was mirrored.

To get to the office that Jeff's oncologist is in we have to walk past a pediatric cancer office. The first few times we went it was empty. The last two times we've gone, there have been children, younger than Malcolm, and mothers waiting. Each time we walked past that office or we left the cancer center with only a two month check-up appointment and a bill of all clear I realized how immensely lucky we were/are. Sure, we got the news that Jeff did have cancer at this office, but it was out of his body by the time we needed the oncologist. And at least our child was accompanying us because we didn't have a babysitter and not because he needed an appointment.

With each time that we left I got a little more confidence. It was a little easier. We didn't hear bad news. We weren't taking Malcolm. Maybe, just maybe, one brief battle was all we had to endure and we were now impervious to bad news and the devastation that is cancer. After all, Jeff is in his early 30s. I have yet to hit 30. Malcolm is only 4.

That's the thing about cancer, though. It doesn't care how old you are or who you are or where you're from or what you've done. Cancer attacks without rhyme or reason. And that, is a humbling lesson to learn. You grow up knowing of the horror stories or watching them play out. The first funeral I remember attending was for a very good friend in high school who died at the age of 15 after a horrendous battle with leukemia. My grandfather battled cancer for a large part of my adult life. But, you know, it just doesn't happen to you.

Until it does.

On August 30th we found out that there is a mass in Jeff's lung. Testicular cancer typically reappears in the back, according to the oncologist. That doesn't mean it can't come back in the lungs. So, now we wait for his biopsy. I really don't have coherent thoughts on what is happening now. Except that it sucks. And it's scary. And I hate it. And, I know better than to expect that nothing is wrong because I've learned this year, if nothing else, that nobody is immune to anything. Cancer sucks.
And it can happen to those you love the very most. Those that you've pledged to spend the rest of your life with....and only had 2 years with. It happens. And it sucks.

As we wait, I guess I'll try and keep calm. And laugh as much as possible. And enjoy every second of health that Jeff has at the moment. If the mass is cancerous he's looking at a three month round of chemo. So. I'll take deep breaths when I need to and cry when I have to and laugh every second that I can. And I'll remember above all else to count every blessing I have instead of focusing on what is going wrong. Because positivity matters.

Lessons in Humility

Alternate title:  Proof That my (Almost) 4 Year Old Stepson is Smarter Than me.....

Mood:  humble, happy, hopeful

I have to admit, I never wanted children.  Publicly anyway.  As I've gotten older I've realized that not wanting children was indeed a defense mechanism.  If I say I don't want any then how can I possibly be disappointed when I don't have any?  I do have one, though.  Malcolm may not be my son by blood or biology, but in my heart I know we were meant to be in each other's lives.  

Reason #1 I know this to be true?  He forces me to learn something new every single day.  And if we're being completely honest I learn something new about 20 times a day when I'm with him.  My current favorite example happened last night.  Last month my mom shipped her old Clarisonic face brush to me as I was having a horrid time with my face breaking out, but could not afford to purchase one myself.  Last month is the most important part of that sentence.  I have been using this for a full month.  30 days.  I've been cleansing morning and night religiously with this thing.  I just yesterday learned that there is more than 1 speed.  How did I learn this?  Malcolm picked it up.  That's it.  Withing 10 seconds of having it turned on he managed to show me that there is more than 1 setting.  Why had it never occurred to me to press that damn button a second time?

Which leads me to reason #2 that I know we are destined to be lifelong friends.  He makes me wonder.  I took a course in seminary on wonder.  What wonder is, how to encourage it, how to take time to wonder.  It seemed so logical and smart and easy at age 23, having never been outside of an academic setting.  I would sit in class and think that of course we all needed to stop and smell the proverbial roses, why on earth was I earning credit for this class?  Then life happened.  5 years of work and general living and not being an official student later, I wish I would remember to smell those roses.  Or to look at the snow outside and think not of the delays and headaches that it will result in, but how infinitely amazing it is that there is 13 inches on the ground and not one single flake is the same as another.   Malcolm is a constant reminder that the world is full of things to marvel at.  From the universal and deeply meaningful to remembering that it's okay to experiment with everyday items just to "see what happens."

And the third and most important reason I know that Malcolm was more than a huge bonus to meeting and marrying Jeff?  I love him.  It may seem like that reason doesn't make sense.  But to me, it does.  I love this child.  This child that did not grow inside me, nor did I ever see in infancy.  This child that could already walk and punch and argue when we met.  This child that teaches me all the time that I am capable of more.  I am so much more than what I limit myself to.  Jeff tells me this, my parents and sister tell me this, it is something I "know."  Yet for some reason when this realization comes from Malcolm it clicks.  I have a sudden, fleeting moment of clarity that whatever horrible thing is happening at this exact second is just a speck of dust on the "big picture" of our lives.  I have gained patience that I never thought I would have.  And love that is so pure and real that wondering at it now, tears of joy fall from my eyes.

Parenthood, and step-parenthood in particular, is trial by fire.  There is nothing to be done except do and then pray that you're doing something right.  Judging by Malcolm Jeff has done a great job, and the way he relates to me I think maybe I'm not doing too shabby.  I know that this is a lifelong job, and I am already dreading Malcolm circa age 12...but today I am so blessed to be spending time with him.  Teaching him.  Loving him.  But most importantly, learning and growing from him.