Is there anyone out there who disagrees when I say that cancer sucks? I sure hope not. Yes, my son has leukemia, but he'll successfully end his battle months from now. However, my oldest sister (16 years my senior) is currently dying from complications of stage IV pancreatic cancer. I wish there were words to describe how my heart sinks and literally hurts every time I think of her current suffering. She looks like a concentration camp victim- emaciated, distended abdomen, sunken eyes, rag on her head. Only a shadow of her vibrant, very classy, compassionate, and strong self remains. She can hardly eat. Talking takes too much energy. Visitors wear her out. Nowadays she hardly gets up to walk around the room. She's in pain a lot of the time. She's on so many medications that her speech is slightly slurred. THIS BLOWS!
So often I have asked the question, "Why?!" Tragedy is not new to the human experience whether it be sickness, trauma, sudden fatality, cruelty, etc. And yet, it all looks so different when it's happening to someone else. And then it's your turn.
I think we as humans are naturally curious and automatically desire answers. We want to hold someone or something accountable for all that is messed up in this world. We crave purpose and meaning, especially when our lives explode. But how can we explain it all away? Does there have to be a reason why my son has cancer, why my sister has to die in her early 50's? Do I need to know this very second? Is it in my best interest to have the whole answer right now?
In my typical human reaction to both my son's initial diagnosis and watching my sister suffer, I have been angry. Very angry. At God. At Life. At myself for not handling things "perfectly" (whatever that means). But, I get to choose if I stay angry. No one or nothing is *making* me mad. I'm the only one who has power to choose my attitude. Am I suggesting I sweep all my anguish, mourning, sorrow, etc. under the rug? No. That's unhealthy and I can say from previous experience, it will only come back later in the form of an ugly monster. I am, however, proposing that we find a way to work through all these powerful and difficult emotions. Move them. Understand them. Learn about yourself in the process. And then, probably the most difficult thing of all, get outside of yourself. Yep, go do something for someone else. Nothing else has the power to change perspective and attitude.
Now this last suggestion may seem incongruous and downright outlandish. I know. I've often been in the wallows of sorry and self-pitty that the mere idea of doing something for someone else (we're talking something as simple as reading my toddler a story or getting him a drink of water) feels like wading through sludge. The initial inertia that must be overcome feels like climbing Mt. Everest. We've got to do it anyway.
One of the hardest days at the oncology clinic with my son ended with me doing some scheduled volunteer work. It made my day. The difficulties of my son's chemotherapy treatment that day were still a reality and still hurt, but the sting was softened by the joy of lightening someone else's load.
So even when Life royally sucks, cry, scream into that pillow, throw things, get yourself a punching bag, whatever you gotta do. And then, get up. Wipe the tears from your eyes. Clean up your mess, and go lift someone else's hands that hang down. See the good. Be the good. Learn. Grow. Be better because of your sufferings. It's grueling, and the change is painstakingly slow, but it's possible. Don't let inertia and circumstance determine who you become. YOU decide.
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