Forewarning: this is going to be a bit lengthy. I haven't discussed any of this with others yet, so it is a bit raw and honest.
The past few days I've been thinking about just how "normal" this cancer journey has been for my family. Of course things have changed in our lives; but it all has been for the better.
~I was already super close with my family, but we now have a strengthened bond that will never tear us apart.
~I already had faith that God was in control, but now I have placed my whole future in his hands.
~I already knew that we had amazing friends and family, but I now know that the people stepping up to walk this journey with my mom are some of the strongest, most beautiful and wonderful people this earth has seen.
~I already knew that cancer was a killer, but now I know that it CAN and WILL be defeated.
There are 2 things I still struggle with, however. First, is the stares towards my mom when she is out in public with just a scarf around her head. More than 12 million people in the United States have survived cancer (source), so chances are that everyone knows SOMEONE that has been through this journey. So...why should a bald woman surprise them? Maybe it's me just being biased, but my mom is way more beautiful without hair. Why? Because of the symbol of it. It symbolizes her strength, courage, and hope. I feel like, instead of staring, how about you do one of these other options:
1. Walk up to her and ask her how she's doing. OR
2. Smile at her. OR
3. Say a silent prayer to yourself for her future and health.
I hate seeing the look of uncomfortableness on her face when she notices someone is just in a deadlock stare. She doesn't deserve that. No cancer patient does. Frustration #1.
The second thing I struggle with is where some of my friends have gone? I have several friends that I have not heard one word from since I told them about my mom's diagnosis 5 months ago. These were childhood friends. Not a call to see how mom is doing? Not a card? Not even contacting my mom in some way? I wish I had answers for that one. Are they one of those people that is just uncomfortable with this kind of stuff and doesn't know how to reach out? Okay. I can deal with that. The phone works both ways, I guess I can pick up the phone and call them. But what do I say? "Hey, haven't heard from you since my mom was diagnosed. Mind if I update you about all the shitty stuff going on?" Awkward. I'd rather pick up the phone and call my mom to talk to her for hours on end! Are they just not the kind of friends I thought they were? Hurtful, but I guess in the long run, it will be okay because I've learned who my real, amazing friends are. And I do have quite a few of them that have been so supportive and my strength at times.
Despite those two things I just can't wrap my head around (and sometimes I do let them get to me), things really are normal for my family. My mom is still a huge goof-ball and finds the humor in everything she does. My dad and brother are still nerds that trick my mom into watching something Sci-Fi in the evenings, I'm still super busy with teaching and maintaining some kind of normalcy on the other side of the country from my family, and we're all still bugging my dad for a dog (after mom beats cancer though).
I know this post seems a little about "me," when my mom is the one with cancer, but like I've said before in my blog, my blog is mine about her cancer journey. She has her own blog that you can read here. As a care-giver, I experience my own emotions, struggles, joys, and frustrations. My every thought consumes my mother and her health. But a good piece of advice was given to me early on in my mom's battle: "Don't forget to take care of yourself." And that advice was given to my by my mother, of course.
I found this on pinterest about a month ago, and have since printed it out. It now sits on my desk at my apartment, and I look at it to remind me that our family would not have been dealt this crappy hand in life unless God thought we could win it. And my family loves games. This is just normal for us. Game on, cancer.
xoxo
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