Life Lessons

I love autumn.  I love the deep intensity of the changing colours, the crispness in the air, the smells.  But these days, autumn is bittersweet.  It is also the anniversary of my Dad’s death, and my experiences with cancer.  I have all my follow up appointments in the next couple of weeks – mammogram, MRI, doctor, etc. – which inevitably reminds me of what was an extremely frightening and unpleasant time in my life.

However, I also learned a few things in my journey with cancer and grief.

I learned how meaningful the support of family and friends is.  One friend drove two hours to come to my dad’s funeral, in the middle of her hectic life, representing, she said, all those who wanted to but couldn’t attend.  My brother- and sister-in-law also unexpectedly drove for two hours to support us, especially my husband, as he led the funeral service for my dad.  The same brother-in-law drove up again after I had my surgery, delivering in person a care package of Body Shop loot and a bag full of novels and magazines, and to see for himself that we were okay.  Friends, church people, students and neighbours visited, called, brought food, books and magazines, sent cards, and prayed for us.  Faraway friends and family sent messages, cards, flowers, and prayers.  I learned that the most important thing wasn’t necessarily specifically what people did, but that what they did reflected that they were there for us, thinking of us and reminding us that we had the love and support of many people, and that there were many people who were travelling this road with us.  These gestures, which seem so small, held such deep meaning for me and my family.

I learned that adversity makes a person self-centred.  That’s healthy, to some extent; I needed to take the time to focus on myself and my family, to heal from the emotional and physical wounds I experienced.  I needed to make sure I took the time to recover from my surgery and to become as strong as possible, emotionally and physically, for whatever came next.  But I also realized that the temptation is to focus too much on myself to the exclusion of others.  The reality is that I am not the first or only person to experience these things, and actually, there are people who suffer far more than I did.  In the midst of the moments when I felt sorry for myself, I was reminded to look outside of myself, and to follow the example that my friends and family set for me, by reaching out to others.

People told me I’m a brave and strong woman because of how I “dealt with” the challenges in my life three years ago.  I learned that “braveness” and “strength” don’t really have anything to do with it.  I am not brave or strong.  In fact, I was scared out of my mind.  Being “brave” implies a choice – people who are brave choose a difficult course of action.  Cancer isn’t a choice, and people who are sick with cancer aren’t brave.  They don’t have a choice.  Falling apart and becoming an emotional basket case wouldn’t change anything, and it wouldn’t make me feel any better, and it certainly wouldn’t have helped my family.  Dan Rather said “Courage is being afraid but going on anyhow.”  That’s the only choice we have, to go on, and try to get through our challenges wiser and stronger.  I believe that there is a reason that things happen. I also believe that I might never know that reason, but that something good comes out of every situation. I also know without a doubt that this journey would be much more difficult if I had to do it alone.

I learned that my life is about more than the fact that I had cancer, and that people deal with being cancer survivors in many different ways.  Some people get very involved in fundraising for cancer, in runs, walks and organizations.  It helps them heal, and their efforts help others who are experiencing cancer.  So far, I can’t be part of those activities.  It goes back to what I said about needing to be self-centred to a certain extent.  I am reminded that I had cancer every fall when I go through my cycle of tests and check-ups, and every day when I take my medication and see my scars.  I don’t want any other reminders.  I don’t want the rest of my life to be defined by the fact that I had cancer.  I need to focus on activities that do not remind me of cancer.  Maybe the time will come when I can participate more fully in cancer-related fundraising and other activities, but I'm not there yet.

I learned that life after cancer is scarier than life before cancer.  Even though I make a concerted effort to not dwell on cancer, just for a split second, when I feel a strange or new ache or pain, or when I get sick in ways I haven’t been sick before, the question floats through my consciousness: “Is this the cancer coming back?”  It’s always there, that question, just under the surface.

I learned that life is worth living, and there are no do-overs.  Yes, I know it sounds trite and everyone says that, but it’s true.  Every day I’m alive, I give thanks for another day.  I don’t know if my every day activities have changed much in the last three years, but I think my attitude toward living has changed.  I think I feel more joy in just being alive.

I learned that even though I am a person of faith, there were times when I just couldn’t pray.  Not because I didn’t believe in prayer or because I lost my faith.  I was just so overwhelmed at times that I couldn’t formulate the words to pray.  During those times, I really felt the prayers of others who were praying the words I couldn’t, prayers for me, and for my family.  I drew a lot of strength and comfort from knowing that there were people who were saying those prayers that I couldn't pray for me.

Maybe the most important lesson I learned is that there is always, always something to be thankful for.  I am extremely thankful for my father, for the kind, gentle man that he was, and his life and legacy to me and my kids.  I am thankful for the example my mother has given me about dealing with adversity and trials, and finding joy in the small things in life. I am thankful for my children and my husband, the care they gave me and the strength they lent me.  I am thankful for my brother, my nephews, my in-laws, and their genuine love and concern for us.  Even in the toughest and scariest moments, I can be thankful for the warmth of the sunshine, the beauty of a bird, a kind word spoken, the taste of a fresh chocolate chip cookie, a hug from one of my kids or my husband, the relief that comes after the tears, the smell of the autumn leaves, a morning of picking apples with good friends, a good book, or a million other every day experiences.  And I am always, forever thankful for my friends and family.

I am sure there are more lessons down the road for me.  And as I go forth for all of my annual tests and checkups, I am reminded that there might be more challenges too.  I hope that whatever my test results show, I will remember the lessons I've learned thus far, and that I will be reminded every day that this journey of life, that we share together, is full of joy and beauty.