What We Understand

On a global, macro level, we understand the concept of trying to remain healthy. We understand that healthy diets and exercise help to keep arteries from clogging, blood pressure stable, and help us to feel good in general. Not eating too many burgers, drinking plenty of water, drinking alcohol in moderation, and keeping regular sleeping habits help as well. We all know the good stuff to do, and we are, generally, pretty successful.

On a global, macro level, we understand the concept of cells mutating, becoming cancerous, and then replicating and spreading more efficiently than man could dream. We get the concept when it is out there, in the world, away from us, that other people get cancer. We hear the stories of treatments, hair loss, weakness, doubt, and the what now thoughts. The testimonies are numerous about trusting the doctors because they know more than the layperson.

On a global, macro level, we understand that sometimes the wearing of a ribbon, or donating to various research centers is all of the support that some can muster. Sometimes, the sitting with and listening to are hard to bear. Logically, we understand the insidious nature of cancer as it slowly creeps along and follows its programming.

On a personal, micro level, we understand nothing when cancer follows that programming and comes to visit where we call home, and whom we call family. What takes away the understanding and logic is knowing that the right things were done over the decades to preemptively deny cancer’s visitation rights. Then, one day, he knocks. Or, in some cases, he simply says that he is here, and he had set up camp a while ago. And then, patient, family, and friends rack the collective brains to try and figure out, angrily, how he got in. Was something missed when reading all of those labels? Was the right combination of vitamins not taken? Was there too much of something? Was there not enough of something else?

On a personal, micro level, we understand nothing because there are just too many variables, too many possibilities, too many times the metaphorical door was left open too long, too many combinations of things to multiply and divide and subtract that add up to the stark reality of what is. And what is is inevitable. In this case, Mr. Jagger is not right. Time is not on our side. What can be done when one’s time card has been slid into the clock, but Father Time will not show the date? All that can be done is wait, wonder, and watch.

On a personal, micro level, we understand that worrying will not help. Yet, we grow tired during the fight. Then, tired becomes weary. And then, weary becomes “it is what it is” - a quiet, dignified acceptance of inevitability. An acceptance not on the part of the band of caregivers, but on the part of the one that care is being given to. The towel is not thrown in, but rather neatly folded and placed into the cabinet where it belongs. Why now? Why continue to pay attention to the little things? With Father Time and Mr. Inevitable coming closer, what does it matter where the towel goes? “Because this is what I have always done. I am still me. Everything in their own places.”

On the most personal of levels, will I have the strength of spirit, the quiet dignity, the grace at the end as my mom had? Will I have the steadfast resolve to continue the fight against? Will I have the tenacity to be me even when others would understand if I am not? I can only hope. I am her child, so I doubt that I only look like her and only have some of her mannerisms and only have her DNA. No, there is much more of her in me. I know because, ever so often I feel the intertwining of her spirit with mine. Ever so often I hear her spirit encouraging me. Ever so often I see her spirit reassuring me that I do possess the strength. Thankfully.

I miss you and I love you in all ways on all days. Happy Birthday.