The Cancer Toll

Right on cue, I wake up this morning seeing a six as the first number on the clock, and having a full bladder and a dry mouth.  At least for the past few days my chemo has been consistent.  But today, I know there is no chance of laying there and falling back asleep, and that is because of yesterday...

Few people know this, but my faith is defined by two incidences in my life.  The first was when I was a dumb little kid in California, and doing what dumb little kids do, at some point I had fallen and scraped my knee.  Not thinking anything of it, until my father noticed days later that it had become infected.  He cleaned a needle and tried to poke a hole to get my healed over wound to start draining, but was unsuccessful.  I still didn't care, until he mentioned what the next step would be.  He said if it didn't drain, it could get worse, and we may have to go to the doctor who would use a "knife" to get it to drain.  Now as an adult, I know he meant a small scalpel.  However, as a dumb little eight year old, I assumed he meant a machete or hunting/survival knife of any of the other large knives that a military brat is accustomed to seeing while growing up on military bases.  It scared me to death the thought of this doctor coming at me, white coat covered in blood, wildly swinging and stabbing at my knee until he hits the right spot and it starts to drain.  I mean, the needle hurt bad enough, how bad would the knife hurt?  This was the first day I really prayed.  I had said grace and bedtime prayers before, but they were basically little poems I recited because that's what you are supposed to do.  This time, I made up the prayer, asking God to please not let that knife wielding, maniacal doctor chase me around (OK, at eight, I didn't use the words "knife wielding, maniacal", but you know what I mean).  A day or two later, I run into my parents' bedroom as I had done thousands of times before without major injury, but this time I ran smack into the nightstand, the corner hitting me RIGHT where the infected spot was on my knee.   Man did it hurt.  And the next day...the infection was gone.  It was that day at eight years old that I learned, God may not always do things the way you want Him to, but if you ask and believe, He will do what's best.  As a little kid I wanted it to magically go away.  What happened is my dad went with a needle as deep as he could, but it didn't work...until I banged it hard against the nightstand, opening the wound deep and connecting the hole dad made to the infection causing it to drain.  That was a pretty powerful thing for an eight year old to grasp.  From that day forward my faith that God always does what's best was always in my mind.

And I still feel that way.  Through all of the things I have been through, I honestly have never said "Why me?". I am one of those people that believes we are never given more than we can handle.  I have only lost a job twice in my life.  The first time I did, I went from losing a job running record stores to running around with rock stars a few years later.  So for every trial and tribulation in my life, it always seemed to lead to something better, and usually a learning experience.  Many people's dream job would be running around with rock stars.  My reality was that I was constantly driving to this state or that state, and although 80% of the rock stars were great to work with, the 20% could really make you dread your job, however I won't mention the names of the 20% because I don't want you to think less of Jewel, Tori Amos, or Big Wreck (which I know you probably never heard of, and it may have something to do with my bosses' boss asking why I refused to work anymore Big Wreck shows.  Sorry, I didn't mean to get you kicked off the label, but he said I wasn't the first one to call you guys A-holes).  For every low point in my life, it seems with a little patience and a little faith, I eventually get to a very high point in my life.  So, where am I going with all of this?

One of the hardest things for a cancer patient is not what you go through, it's what you put your family through.  My journey through the medical system started in 1989 with my gastro-intestinal stuff, and I can handle whatever is thrown at me.  As I said, I have never asked God, "Why me?".  But with the stresses, worries, and everything else that comes along with major health issues, last night I laid in bed and asked God, "Why her?".  I am used to it.  I can handle it.  Throw one thing after another at me, I know that something greater is around the corner.  And after the news yesterday, I am still fine.  I know there will be other chances.  But seeing the way my wife has been emotionally and physically beat down the past couple months is more than I can bear.  I have seen cancer patients that were doing great, suddenly just change their attitude and pass away in an incredibly short period of time.  And I always wondered, what caused them to give up when they were doing so good?  Yesterday, I understood.  As a cancer patient, like it or not, you are causing a lot of pain and heartache to those that love and care for you.  And for the most part, the last thing those people want is for that loved one to be out of their life.  But as a cancer patient, you only have so much fight in you.  You fight the disease, you fight the surgery, you fight the treatment, and you are still left to fight to pretend that nothing is bothering you and that you are fine and strong and can put on a brave face for the ones helping you on that journey.  

Yesterday's news had nothing to do with cancer.  But it did have everything to do with the bright spot in this otherwise very dark past few months.  I am tired of that hospital.  I am tired of being in that hospital.  I am tired of seeing employees of that hospital, walking around, hating their jobs, and letting patients and loved ones see that attitude.  I didn't want to spend four more hours there, especially just to receive that news.  And most of all, I am tired of the toll that this emotional two months has taken on my wife and others that I love.  Yesterday, I understood why cancer patients give up.  I understood why they go so fast.  I understood it all.  It's not that they have given up on life, or treatment, or faith, or anything, sometimes it is simply that they just want the pain to be over.  Not necessarily their pain, but the pain that ripples throughout their support network.  And in most cases, that is the last solution the support network wants, but yesterday I understood.  If there was anything I could do yesterday, to make this emotional hurting stop, I would have.  What's killing me is there is nothing I can do.  I am positive.  I know we will both get through this.  I know there will be a bright spot down the road.  But I can't stop her pain.

That is why I found myself laying in bed, next to my wife as she cries herself to sleep asking God, "Why her?".  I try to imagine, what bright spot is going to make up for the past two months of heartache.  And the way I figured it out, this is what must be in store for us, we must be finding a winning lottery ticket while at Walt Disney World, when we bump in to Johnny Depp (that would be for her) who tells us he has a surplus of American made Paul Reed Smith guitars with double cutaway and twenty four frets, he would like us to have one, and nine months later we have triplets (the triplets would be for me, and should be really small magical triplets, that are an easy pregnancy, but are magically very healthy).  The triplets would have to come nine months later, because we would want to ride everything at Disney World without having to worry about all those signs that list all the medical conditions that preclude you from riding (from pregnancy to hangnails, are the rides really that unsafe or is the added fright from all the medical warnings part of the ambiance?).  And those triplets better not look like Captain Jack, if you know what I mean.

So here I am.  Up early blogging so no one in the house sees the tears in my eyes, trying to digest why yesterday happened.  Go ahead and plug me with a few more tubes, hoses, wires, monitors, and stitches, but can we leave her out of this?  I don't know what to expect next.  I just know there has to be something bigger and better planned, and hopefully it is soon.