lunhs cancer

WANTED: Someone who will let me speak my mind about this terrible disease, without having to be brave or positive or sun-shiny. Someone who will let me blow off steam and rant, someone who will let me feel negative and speak my fears about what lies ahead.   DESPERATELY SEEKING: Someone who will let me say that I am scared about what might be. That this disease freaks the crap out of me. Someone who will let me not be tough for a few minutes, but break down and cry about my anxieties. I may get some static for this post, but I think that there is too much pressure on cancer patients to stay upbeat and cheerful all the time, dancing through treatments and smiling during scans. "You can beat cancer with a positive attitude!" Bah, if only that were true, I wouldn't have lost so many friends to cancer. On the contrary, it is perfectly natural � even healthy � to allow yourself to imagine various possibilities of what could be. If you have ever watched children play, you...

When I was a kid, the playgrounds had the wonderfully simple see-saws that were nothing more than a plank of wood over a pivot point. We would play a game where one person would be all the way down, and the other all the way up.  That child would say, "Farmer, farmer, let me down!" The other would respond, "What will you give me, Charlie Brown?" And then a negotiation would ensue, with poor Charlie trying to get back down to earth. If the Farmer chose to, she could jump off the see-saw, sending Charlie plummeting into the hard cement. Ah, childhood. As a metastatic cancer patient, I ride a see-saw between hope and acceptance. Thankfully, on my current treatment, there are days that feel almost normal, where cancer takes a back seat and it easy to hope that this could go on for some time. Then, of course, there are days that the knowledge of what I am facing leaps into my face and refuses to be ignored. The unrelenting nature of this disease can feel just enormous. M...

You are sitting down to a nice dinner when you hear a knock on the door . That's strange, I wasn't expecting anyone. You open the door a crack to see who it is. He shoves the door all the way open and barges in. It's Cancer, the World's Worst Houseguest. He walks right past you and leaves muddy footprints all over your carpet. You are in shock. You didn't know there was any chance of him coming over. It was the last thing on your mind, but here he is, lounging on your couch like he owns the place. Who is this? What is he doing here? Once the shock wears off, you try to talk to him. How long will he be staying? Why did he pick you? He just shrugs, rolls over and goes to sleep, snoring loudly. You start to question yourself . If only you hadn't left the porch light on, maybe he would have gone right past your house. The neighbors whisper that you never should have bought that welcome mat. And the charming walkway lined with flowers just encouraged him. The visit ...

Last night renewed my admiration for caregivers. My husband and I were getting ready for bed when we heard a strange noise coming from our daughters' room. We ran downstairs and found one of the three-year-olds standing outside her room, mouth hanging open and making a horrible gagging, coughing sound. At first we thought she was throwing up, but then she kept trying to suck in air, and it almost sounded like she was choking. "Can you breathe?" She shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. My husband donned his superhero cape while I grabbed her coat and hat. He whisked her into the car. I scraped the ice off the windshield while he buckled her into the car seat. And they were off. I stood there and watched them drive away, feeling totally helpless. How do caregivers do this?!? Her sister had woken up, so that snapped me back to my senses. Okay. Focus. Get her sister back to sleep. Run through nightmare scenarios in my head. Check on the kids. Feel like throwing up...