The Deepening Nature of Life With Cancer (with adjustments)

The last few months have been difficult. I have maintained a positive attitude as much as possible. I have had a lot of hope and positive thoughts (which I find not easy in light of things). I have also had some fear, doubts, regrets and sadness. I honestly don’t think anybody really knows how they will react to a serious, late-stage cancer diagnosis unless they actually get one. I am doing far better with it than I ever imagined. Even then, it may take them weeks or months for their “system” of beliefs and lifestyles to settle down upon any given attitude. As an idea beside the point, I have such incredible respect not only for cancer patients, but especially those who have gone home to God. I know what they went through; and as such, while it may feel like I am the only person in the world who is challenged with only small chances of living a full, normal life, I am only one of millions who are with me now or who have gone before us.

Mine is not a fight in which I stand up strong and formidable all the time. After a second opinion yesterday, the emotional strength that I had been drawing upon for so long simply collapsed and I went to my Mothers at about midnight last night, not wanting to fall asleep alone in my own home. I slept 12 hours there, then went to the oncologist to get my weekly blood work done, came home and promptly slept several more hours. I don’t know if the physical excursion of driving to Lexington (I haven’t been any where since August due to stamina) was the reason for my tiredness, but I think it was that I simply did not have the strength, emotionally to be awake. Of the 24 hour day, I slept nearly 16 hours.

My Mother came by this evening with food and groceries, and she said to me that I was not going to die from this cancer. (Many others have told me that as well). I honestly don’t know if I will loose the battle or not, but I can’t say either way. I do not know, and neither does my Mother. For me, at this time, one of the things that is most important is to be honest with myself – I don’t want to claim that I am going to live on and beat this cancer when I do not know. Neither do I want to fold up my tent now, and just give up. I must learn to live with what is known, and what is true.

My mother had known that I had slept most of the day and she was worried about it. Her statement, that I was not going to die from this cancer was well meaning, and a direct result of the depression she saw me sleep through today. I simply told her that I disserved 24 to 48 hours to be frightened and unsure. And she very lovingly agreed.

If the outcome in any given battle in history was known before it was fought, surely it would be unnecessary fight it. I am not being told that I am going to die, and I am not given a certain amount of time within which my doctors are expecting me to live. Neither am I being told that it is certain I will survive. What they do tell me is that my challenges are great, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more classic definition of “a battle”.

While I believe my attitude prior to this second opinion has been pretty good, despite some emotionally low times, I do believe that my attitude could stand some modifications or adjustments in light of these new opinions.

First of all, it is important to realize that my fate is uncertain. This is important to me because it is the truth, and I can’t spend any of my resources on things that may or may not be true.

Second, and probably most importantly, I must relearn how to not only live my life, but how to cherish the things that I love in a new way. I have been a physically fit person my entire life, capable of physically being in some very lovely and beautiful places in nature. During these three months of chemotherapy, I have been cautious and hesitant to overextend myself physically. This has had an impact on the quality of my life because most of what I love to do, stream fishing, hunting ginseng, backpacking and bicycle racing, require a lot of physical exertion. But with my doctors approval yesterday, I am medically allowed to exert myself as much as I am able. And I plan to do so. In so many ways, I have stop living the way I normally would because I was afraid of getting worse. In my case, it would be so much easier if my passions were something like needle-point or basket weaving, that required little physical stamina. I love dynamic and extreme locations upon the earth, and that requires physical challenges to obtain access to them. I have been afraid to extend myself to get to the places I love.

Lastly, I must change my outlook upon the things that I love and my involvement in them. An example would be when I go to any given race. I always knew there’d be another race to go to. And I valued the process of being a competitive cyclist more than any given event. The fishing – valuing the idea of being a fisherman, capable of going fishing at any given time in the future, especially when the fish were not biting. It seems I have valued the overall activity more than any given single outing. If I did love each and every outing, be it fishing, racing, or ginsenging, I simply would not be doing it. I need to learn to cherish each day instead of cherishing the process extended to an unending future.

I must learn to live with cancer, uncertainty and I need to learn to live with the things I value. I must learn to live a life of quality rather than quantity – and I must learn to cherish every day that I may engage my passions; and be satisfied with the time spent and not always look forward to the time I might do it again.

Unfortunately, fear and uncertainly have allowed me to become physically diminished and unable to pursue most of my passions. I feel confident that the chemo has weakened me, and not the cancer. So I am going to need to train a little bit – to strengthen my body enough do some of the things that I love. I am coming to realize, to not do this would be an emotional defeat in the battle which would inevitability lead to the physical one.

Whether I live or die due to this cancer really shouldn’t matter how I conduct myself today when it comes to my passions. I was not dead today (although I may have been asleep most of it) and I will not be dead tomorrow, or the next. I find it insane to live my life any further as if I were dead- gripped in some sort of deranged emotional straightjacket of fear. I want to live. I want to live so long as I am alive, and I am certain this is the correct way to conduct myself from now on.

While I may not win another bicycle race, at least I know I can race again – and that is what I love about it anyway. While I may not spend my golden years as an old-fisherman like the man from “A River Runs Through It”, I know I have not caught my last fish. And as the Cherokee have always said about ginseng, only the worthy can even see it. I have always been able to see it and I will see it again.

We are all going to dye. And while it seems cruel to know you may not live a normal longevity, I believe the uncertainty may also lead to a richer fuller life.

Yes, I have some work to do in order to live in the manner I want to live. This must be my dedication. While I have millions of fellow sufferers, and millions of other have succumbed to cancer before all of us, nobody has ever died from the actual cancer that is in me, and nobody has lived the exact live that I have lived. Therefore, the quality or lack of quality of the life I will live from this point forward depends only upon my willingness live it as a live human being, and not a cancer patient who might or might not die an early age.

Your prayers in this attitude adjustment for me are requested.