Seriously, if someone has to have cancer at a relatively young age, it should be me.
The day I knew that I probably had cancer—and late-stage cancer was likely as tonsil cancer symptoms tend to present after it is pretty serious—I made my peace with it. Of course, it came as a shock, but I made a quick inventory of my life and decided that, whether this ended up killing me or not, I had led a charmed life and I could call it complete if that was the reality. Obviously, I was committed to do what I could to send it into remission. I just figured that it was better me than most people.
If we didn’t have health insurance…
If we didn’t have plenty of material resources…
If I didn’t have Leslie…
If I was still working…
If I had children…
If my life had been one of struggle and heartbreak…
Then, I well might have said “why me?”
But, with all that I have been given in life and all my good fortune, why not me? Plus, I have a 90% survival rate. That makes it all ever-so-much easier.
On “Fighting” Cancer
Above, I put fighting in quotes because I don’t feel I am fighting. I feel I am experiencing, just like always. When I keep living after the treatment is over—as I am pretty damn sure I am going to do—I am not going to feel like a “survivor”. I am just going to feel the same as always, alive.
People keep telling me they like my attitude. I will tell you what is the foundation of my attitude: I am going to die (and so are you). Of something. If this ends up killing me, it’s the thing that killed me. Something will. I am not fearful of death. I am not one of those folks who want to live forever. I want to live as long as I can in a healthy, happy way. If I can no longer do that, than I will be ready to pass away. And leave the world to those just born. To quote Laura Nyro (who, incidentally, died at 49 of ovarian cancer):
And when I die, and when I’m gone,
There’ll be one child born
in this world to carry on.
That is beautiful, wondrous cycle of life. I completely embrace it.
Dying, like cancer, will be another experience. It will be the last experience, of course. But, I plan to exit laughing. Or listening to Wagner’s quintet from Die Meistersinger. One or the other.
Getting your priorities straight
Lots of people have suggested that this experience will lead to a reordering of my priorities in life, seeing more clearly what’s important and what’s not. I am sure that does happen to people whose priorities don’t match up with their deepest desires, but I actually don’t have that issue. I have known for several years what I want to do with my remaining years. That is, using my skills to help my friends and family. Leslie wouldn’t mind if I dialed back some of that helpfulness (and I am trying a little bit, honey, I really am!)
People kept telling me that I had to stop focusing on other people and really focus just on myself. But, that is just silly. Helping people is what I want to do in my life, what gives me the most satisfaction. Why on earth would I want to stop the thing that makes me the happiest during one of the worst periods of my life? I wasn’t—and didn’t—let cancer reorder that priority. While I was a total hermit during much of the treatment and for a period after, I kept all my commitments to people, even from my hospital bed. And, that made me happy.
Update
My mouth is the same as it has been for quite awhile. It is going to be a really slow process. Don't expect an update saying that I am back to semi-normal for months. It just isn't going to heal quickly. Oh well. I have one thing I can eat for breakfast that doesn't hurt (bread pudding with soy milk and a poached egg) and I have one thing I can eat for dinner that doesn't hurt ( a soup with chicken stock with an egg, milk and cheese). Hmmm, I eat some other things that hurt a bit (protein shake) and sashimi. I try things. Most don't work. Like I said, oh well. I am a happy person in spite of this. I have Leslie (26 years yesterday) and I have Ziggy (just an almost perfect dog). My friends and family. A great house. And way more. I am one lucky person.
