Little Losses

Weather Report: Six inches of snow, then rain...and turkeys lurkin' in my swamp!

Back when I was busy running a church, running a family and running to chemo, I didn't have the time to participate in a support group for B/C. They usually meet at night and meet far away. I do now (hah!), and am so glad to have found this place of support and respite. We share a common perspective - from the inside out on the cancer journey. We "get" each other, even if we don't like each other sometimes. Funny how small annoyances are really small annoyances in the bubble of this group of women. (And there are scientific studies that show support groups both improve longevity and quality of life for survivors).

One thing that immediately stands out for me, as I talk and as l listen, is how the losses mount up for cancer patients. A doctor mentioned the first thing you lose is a "certain future". All the plans you were making, for retirement, for that summer vacation, for school or job, are now in flux. Other losses, big and small, pile up...the women mention loss of hair, loss of estrogen, loss of friendships, loss of income, loss of strength and energy, loss of time, loss of freedom (can't plan too far ahead, say, for that cruise). One woman, too worried about her declining health, gave away all her beloved pups, except one - and she's trying to find a home for that one. (When my kids beg me for another cat, dog, or bird, I automatically wonder if I'll be able to afford to take care of it AND be in good enough health to take care of it!) People lose their homes, either because they can't afford them anymore, or because the upkeep is too much. (For me, losing my home - which will eventually happen - means losing my garden, my cozy nest, and my view of the mighty fine swamp, aka "the marsh").

Losing one's livelihood is a big loss - work gives purpose to life. So losing livelihood is also losing purpose. (And frankly, that's a drag - to have one's purpose reduced to doctoring one's self.) For some of us, "purpose" becomes the pursuit of drug and treatment information, waiting for that magic cancer bullet.

Another woman lost her children - gave them up when she became too sick to stay on top of the parenting load. (Her ex is a generous man; they live nearby, and the girls spend a great deal of time with their mother, a great comfort to her!)

I'm continually amazed, however, that there is little wallowing or self-pity. There's room for humor, grief, anger, confusion, and the occasional self-indulgent whine. But mostly there's getting up and "doing what needs to be done" in the words of Garrison Keillor. I find their bravery, intelligence and compassion truly amazing. I wish everyone could know these women, know the stuff they are made of. It's odd to think of cancer as bringing out the best in people, but somehow, it does. Their light takes the darkness out of the diagnosis and treatment.