The C Word

When my sister Crystal died of ovarian cancer in 2013, I somehow thought that meant my family and I could somehow sigh in relief. It was the most horrific and challenging part of my life thus far. And as hard as it was, I thought that meant that we had paid our dues and could move forward putting the awful C word behind us. I learned so much about cancer during Crystal's journey. She documented it in her blog here: https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/crystalheimgartner/journal Truth be told, I just cringed a bit having to login to the journal to post the link and left as soon as I could cut and paste it. Five years later and seeing her thoughts and feelings about the disease still shakes me to my core and I am unable to read about it again. However, I am so grateful it is there so when my heart is ready I can relive the journey with her. She also made beautiful tributes to her girls in there several times and one post even especially about me. It is a treasure to have and something I am eternally grateful for. Before Crystal's journey, I knew nothing about cancer. Like nothing. Like most people, I imagined it to be this awful disease (disclaimer it is) but honestly I had no idea what it actually even was. Over the years, I learned the difference between a CT scan and PET scan; what scan showed what and how they were integrated into treatment. I learned how a biopsy is performed and how a radiologist determines what the mass actually is. I also read every book imaginable, including all of the hippie-dippie Susan Somers books about holistic non-medical treatments (stop rolling your eyes all of you science geeks). I learned that many tumors LOVE sugar and how marijuana can be integrated into treatment. I learned about raw foods and vitamin supplements and chemotherapy and radiation all work. I watched specials about John of God, Mexican treatment facilities, German experimental treatments, and the list goes on and on. I learned how the stages of cancer are assigned by your oncologist (a doctor who specializes in cancer). I learned what the cellular makeup of a tumor looks like and saw raw images of tumors taken from my sisters own body. I learned that nurses are angels sent straight from God to care for others and always be nice to them no matter how much you are hurting. And again, on that day when she died somehow I took all of the knowledge and bagged it up in a trash bag and threw it away, thinking I'd never ever ever have to access it again. And I was thankful for that; "good riddance" I told it. I actually had a therapy session where I said good bye to all of that information to help clear my mind and try to get back to some sort of "normal" without my sister. Part of that session was a reminder to myself that knowledge in this case does not necessary equal power as every human is unique and I wasn't going to outsmart cancer no matter how much I studied it. I really didn't like hearing that, but hey I was never going to use it again anyway so I obliged my therapist and said I agreed. And then Saturday night happened. I was out celebrating a dear friends birthday when that damn trash bag got thrown back into my world. Five years later, it smells like utter and complete shit after festering for five plus years, but it's still there packed full of things I never wanted to think about or remember again. To God, the Universe, or whomever---I really wanted to keep the damn bag in the dump. I never wanted to see it, think about, or most importantly feel it again. But here it is, right at the doorstep of my heart banging to come back in and do this journey again. For those of you that know me well (which is pretty much all of you reading this), you know I will be fine. Part of being in graduate school to become a therapist is a very rigorous self-therapy program for yourself so I have support. Not to mention my support system in all of you and my amazing husband and daughter who give me strength I didn't ever realize I had before them. You know that my family and I will fight with every single fiber of our being. But this SUCKS! I am angry and frustrated and confused and angry and did I say angry? I am and will forever be a Momma's boy. I don't know anyone as close with their Mom as me and mine. We speak on the phone for hours each week. She's funny, she has a heart of gold, and is one of the kindest most loving and accepting people on this planet. But also, when you fuck with her...or me for that matter...we will WIN! And if we don't we will fight like hell on the way out. You know the very best part about my Mom, though? She nailed being a Mom. She spoke to me like a grown up from early on, told me I could tell her anything (and I have), and I knew she would never waver. If I killed someone, she told me to call her and she'd help me bury the body. And she meant (and still means) it. I can't think of a more beautiful gift to your child than them knowing that you'll stand with them no matter what they do or say or how they act and love them through it. I am so beyond grateful for support of everyone in my life. The number of calls and texts and meals and love I can feel from my front porch here in Los Angeles and it is soooooo appreciated. We are just at the beginning of this and don't have enough answers for anyone, or ourselves for a few more weeks. One thing I did learn (the hard way) on Crystal's journey is to allow the person fighting the disease to choose for themselves how they want to fight, what treatments they'll undergo, and how they want to take on this monster. Everyone has an opinion or a story of something that worked for them or a theory or a story of a loved one who did this or did that or went here, and I know it is meant in good faith but I ask that you allow Mom to choose for herself what she wants to do, how she wants to do it, and surround her with positivity and strength in whatever her heart and body decides is right for her. Now to the C word. GO. FUCK. YOURSELF.