I have been noticing a few stories about children dealing with cancer. The children seem really sweet, and beautiful, and have such an incredible support system in their parents, as well as in their "audience."
I hesitate slightly with what I am about to say, as I think there is a chance what I am about to say will be misconstrued. At the same time, there is a perspective that I am not sure is considered.
I have often said that my cancer story doesn't have "marketable" aspects, one of which is that it does not involve a child, nor am I a child. Does every story with a child and cancer get attention? I do not really know. But my guess is that most probably do.
So many people talk about what a great attitude and spirit the child has. In thinking about this piece, I was thinking about how different it is for a child dealing with cancer than an adult, than an adult dealing with it alone. The child's parents are the ones who have to work things out financially, and every other way.
"All" the child needs to do is be a child. An adult, like myself, does not have that. I do not have anyone that can take on the burden of the details. I do not have a supportive parent who takes care of me. Everything, EVERY thing is mine to deal with. Did I say EVERY thing?
It would be a lot easier to smile, be happy, be positive, be things people want me to be if there wasn't so much weighing me down.
Does a child even realize how serious their situation is? Do they think the way many adults do? Most children - if they are young enough - may have no clue what is going on with them. They just may know that they're sick.
I am lying in bed as I type this. I came up to my bed because I wanted to see if I might sleep, or find some way to get comfortable. Sadly, though, without being able to sleep much, my bed is not much of a haven right now. Can't help but wonder if I am feeling the effects of the raised tumor marker.
I do not like thinking this way, but it is hard not to when I feel as crappy as I do. It doesn't help that a part of me is screaming, "nooooo...no more chemo" just like a 5 year old having a tantrum would. I don't think I really have an alternative right now, but that makes it all the more worse. I hate the feeling of being forced into something I don't want.
I didn't want the last chemo, but then I went in to it optimistically, and with the hope that it would be The One to kick cancer's butt once and for all. Well. Apparently, it wasn't. There are so many elements to this that just really suck. My options aren't endless. And now there seems to be one less.
I hate the way I feel. I hate that I feel like I can barely function. I don't want to think this is the end, nor anywhere even close.
But, the fact is, I am scared.