Deb’s Battle - Kicking Cancer’s A$$

Deborah Burkart

So much of cancer is internal. And lonely. When you’re having a bad day, you keep it inside.  You think about broaching whatever is bothering you with someone, but you’re:

a)     Afraid of bringing them down too {especially if a cancer patient themselves}

b)     Sounding like the “omg all she thinks about is cancer” person and dragging every conversation with everyone into cancer, or

c)     Not bringing it up at all because you “know” it’s a phase and the next day will be better.

So, I’ve been feeling anxious.  It’s normal. I don’t know exactly how to deal with it, and I think some of it is prepping for an international trip where part of me is “You had cancer!  How dare you do anything like the old you, or big and spectacular.”

I think there is always fear that if I do fun stuff or extreme stuff or “me” stuff I’ll have a price to pay because I didn’t “pay enough attention” to the fact that I HAD CANCER.  Like I can’t be any other person but the one who fought/is fighting cancer.  Like my whole being has to be focused on that I fought it. And now I can’t relax.

Lately I’ve been more “why me?” like “WHY ME?”  What did I do to deserve this? I’m so mad at times. I feel so robbed of a normal life. I don’t even know what is normal.  And then I see videos and read of people far worse off than me. I see people dying of cancer, almost daily, and I feel guilty for feeling mad or upset.

I know it’s a phase.  And adds stress. And then I worry because of my cancer being “environmental” (they have no clue why or what caused it) that stress caused/contributed to it and will make it come back. And then I get mad again because of all the people, why me? I did all of the right things and got cancer. And even if I do all the right things again, including lowering stress, what if it comes back?

So, it all comes down to fear. I’m scared to death of being the person that has it return and being stage 4.  And knowing “this” is what will end me. Although in many ways I’ve accepted “it is what it is”, and there is some peace in having a “wake up call” to “you could die any second” moment but yet knowing cancer takes a while and you have the time to do the things, say the things, live the things that everyone says they’d do if they had to “live like you were dying”.

But I don’t WANT to be that person.  I want to live. More than anything on this earth, I want more time. I say it’s “for my kids”.  I feel like I have so much more in me. I want to see my kids grow and love and love and prosper. And I can’t die before that’s done.  But on the other hand, it’s for ME.  I want to do more, see more, experience more. And I feel selfish for that.  But if not me, then who?

There are so many “big questions” part of life, and dying and cancer brings them all home. I want to yell at people for doing unhealthy things. I want to tell every single person to take joy in every little thing. And let the non-important stuff go.

There’s so much more to what happens to a cancer patient than the physical “healing” of chemo, surgery, or radiation.  So much more.

And there’s really no way to share that with others.  I try. And I feel that it’s my reason/calling for this.  If I can help any one single person by sharing, then that’s the “why” of this.  And also, the why of why I share. It helps me tremendously to write it down. But I hope it helps someone else. To know they aren’t alone.  Or to help them reach out to someone they know fighting this and talk to them.

No real point of this except to explain that’s it not all easy days and “blocking” the worry.  You can do all you can to regain a normal life, but things are different. And sometimes the dam weakens, and you worry and stress. And then the next day IS better and easier. But it’s always there.  Which just sucks.

I remember waking up on January 28, 2022, and the feeling of “OMG I may have cancer” slamming into me. I knew then I’d never have another day without that stress.  Most days ARE fine. Most days ARE good. But it never goes away. And you can’t stop it from rising up every now and then.  But you can find hope and strength and faith in words. So, when I’m at a loss I search for inspiration.

Tonight, I found this. It feels right.

“Today we fight.

Tomorrow we fight.

The day after, we fight.

And if this disease plans on whipping us, it better bring a lunch, ‘cause it’s gonna have a long day doing it.”  (Jim Beaver)