To Have Loved and Lost
One of the things that comes along with having cancer is meeting others who have cancer. Sometimes the only way people can think of to help you is to connect you to someone else they know who is walking a similar path. There are also the people you "meet" online who become very much real to you and those you meet on your own through new connections made at the doctor's office, at speaking engagements, or because you all advocate for breast cancer or share your stories publicly. And soon the branches of your world are intertwined with lots of others who are also walking this hard path.
In many ways, this makes having cancer more bearable. I've felt less alone by having these friends. I've taken courage from them and loaned them some of mine. Where I've lacked a local support group, I've had these women to call on or commiserate with.
But the problem with having lots of friends with cancer is that you see the ravaging effects of it over and over. You see them walking through things that are likely on the horizon for you, as well. And you're called to witness death way more often than anyone should.
2019 has been a hard year for this. Hardest of all was watching cancer consume my dad, but I also lost a close friend to the disease and another friend has just been given weeks to live. I feel a little like those punching bag clowns that go down with the punch and pop back up just to be hit again and again. But, as C.S. Lewis says, "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal." And of course, that's no way to live.
This isn't something you expect when you're handed your diagnosis, that your world is going to expand to contain all these new friends only to have them taken from you by death all too soon. Before my diagnosis and even after my early stage diagnosis, I had often heard people say, "I hate cancer," which I thought at the time was a bit extreme. But now I know. Now I hate it, too. So much. Today I cry for all of them - and for me.
In many ways, this makes having cancer more bearable. I've felt less alone by having these friends. I've taken courage from them and loaned them some of mine. Where I've lacked a local support group, I've had these women to call on or commiserate with.
But the problem with having lots of friends with cancer is that you see the ravaging effects of it over and over. You see them walking through things that are likely on the horizon for you, as well. And you're called to witness death way more often than anyone should.
2019 has been a hard year for this. Hardest of all was watching cancer consume my dad, but I also lost a close friend to the disease and another friend has just been given weeks to live. I feel a little like those punching bag clowns that go down with the punch and pop back up just to be hit again and again. But, as C.S. Lewis says, "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal." And of course, that's no way to live.
This isn't something you expect when you're handed your diagnosis, that your world is going to expand to contain all these new friends only to have them taken from you by death all too soon. Before my diagnosis and even after my early stage diagnosis, I had often heard people say, "I hate cancer," which I thought at the time was a bit extreme. But now I know. Now I hate it, too. So much. Today I cry for all of them - and for me.
So sorry for all of your losses. When I was first diagnosed stage 4 I found several bloggers in the same boat. In the last 3 years, 5 have passed away and it is heartbreaking. You have summed it up perfectly, cancer just takes so much. Some days it is so overwhelming.
ReplyDeleteI love your blog!!
Thank you for sharing this...I hate it too!
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