Cancer that is…
Normally I am pretty positive about it, don’t let it get me down too much, but this past week it has been really eating at me. Today is the 1 year anniversary of my diagnosis.
I feel fine (actually, let’s be completely honest…in general, I feel great), my numbers are staying stable and there is no evidence that I am going to get worse anytime soon. I am still mentally exhausted thinking about it lately though.
I look at Jacey and get all teary-eyed thinking that she is too young to have to deal with cancer in a parent and will I even get to see her grow up, finish school, get married or have the kids she swears she doesn’t want.
I look at Bryan and think that he doesn’t deserve this, a wife that has constant needs, where his own often get overshadowed. The chance that we won’t get to grow old together and that he may be a single dad.
Then, I look at myself and think this isn’t fair. I get mad at God and myself for events I can’t attend because of germ risks, scars that are forming from constant blood draws and having to know what all these blood counts really mean. I hate the pity. I never asked to be an anomaly. I never asked to get a form of cancer that is typically for 50+, non-Caucasian, males.
Can I just stomp my feet and throw a temper tantrum!? I’m good at those…
I know that CLL is not a death sentence and I know that it could be YEARS before I ever need any treatments, but this week that doesn’t matter. In my head, I try to bargain…can’t it be a form that they can just take the tumor out and zap me a little bit. Not something that is encapsulating my entire body. Something that only a bone marrow transplant can *possibly* cure.
I know God has a purpose for this and for me, I only wish it was clearer…