Last night I was having a really tough time sleeping. I couldn’t get comfortable, the pain made it so no position had any staying power. I eventually got up around 3am and took some pain killers and that helped.
For some reason I seemed to have a real sense of clarity while lying in bed. I felt connected to something, not sure what it was but I was feeling like tackling my understanding of my journey to OWN Cancer. I decided last night to write the previous post to update on the Button Family Initiative and to explain how it fits within the OWN Cancer campaign. I hope I did it justice. It’s important.
But what I started thinking about, around 1:32 am was to try and understand where I fit in the spectrum of Cancer patients. I’ve challenged myself for years not to let Cancer own me, to not let cancer be the thing that drives my psyche. For the most part I think I’ve done a very good job at staying positive and accept that I’m living with Cancer and that Cancer is simply part of my life. I just need to make sure I know how to fit it into the life journey. And to do that I feel like I need to visit the topic every once in a while and kinda put myself through the checklist of things I should be doing to maintain a good self care program.
And last night I gave myself a good grade. I’m doing well, pain and GI issues aside.
But. As always happens when lying in bed some big thoughts drop into the consciousness from the subconscious. At least that’s what I think happened.
For some reason last night I thought about both my parents. For those that don’t know both my parents passed from cancer. Both had their own means of approaching it and I was thinking about how their journeys informed mine. And then it got more complicated because in analyzing their journeys I had to go further back in time and compare their approach to their personalities. To how they approached life.
And it was at this point I realized that I could describe my Mom in very simple terms. She was a warm, caring, loving person that was unflappable, laughed lots, was extremely patient and kept everything simple. So it only made sense that she took a very simple approach to journey. She was a retired nurse, she had seen cancer and it’s power. She decided she didn’t want to fight it, instead she shunned treatments and lived her life out to the end. The cancer journey lasted approximately seven months. She stayed home the whole time, she passed in her bed and was the same woman right to the end. Such grace that only last night did I fully get to understand. I can only imagine what she was going through but you never knew. We had such beautiful moments with me lying beside her in bed asking questions, so many questions. She answered them, she laughed at the absurdities of life and she made me comfortable with her journey. I respected it.
I now know I am, in large part, following her journey, the only difference being that I am taking on the arduous task of treatment. I was very happy thinking of my Mom last night. I was able to write her story in a very simple way, the way she lived her life. Simply, honestly and with a sense of humour.
Then it came to describing my Dad’s journey. It was way more complicated and not as clean, simple or as pleasant. Where my Mom’s journey seemed to be basked in light, my Dad’s seemed to be enveloped by darkness.
Then I had an epiphany, one that almost seemed to allow me to understand why my father had a life of challenge, angst and complexity.
When I tried to think of describing my Dad I realized he was the most complex person I’ve ever known. In trying to encapsulate his cancer journey I was forced to try and understand what made him so complex. On the one hand he was such a great man, a man with a big laugh, a man that loved to play games, a man that could fix anything, his tenacity and focus were unparalleled, he made sure we knew we were loved and we knew it. He instilled such a respect for the family core that I appreciate so much. I believe I have taken on these characteristics.
But on the negative side his demons chased him his whole life, one of the demons was the need for perfection. The need for others to understand that his perspective was the right perspective. And he preached his perspective at all times. An eight hour sermon from Dad was the norm. If you triggered him he would start a conversation and eight hours later you would still be sitting there glossy eyed trying to understand why there was no end and why the point wasn’t made yet.
I think I finally understood my Dad last night. I understood him as I tried to make his complex story into a simple one. It wasn’t possible. Every time I was about to make a point I needed to do what he always did, he added another element that supported the previous argument/discussion point. The reason he was out of sync with everyone else was that he was never able to get his point across. He always felt he never got a chance to make his point and have someone listen and understand it. But the reason he could never get alignment was because he needed perfection. In order to make his point he needed to include every single detail in the conversation. And to make it perfect there was so much detail that an eight hour one-sided conversation was the norm. And no finality ever came. Ever.
He spent his whole life trying to have his perspective understood. And even though he was the only one to speak he was never able to finish that sentence to a conclusion. Too much information was needed.
So he was frustrated his whole life. He felt misunderstood and he felt alone. He felt like no one listened.
The irony being that only he spoke.
So his Cancer journey was in large part one that I didn’t participate in. Fortunately my brother Pat was there during the bladder cancer battle but when the pneumonia came as a result of the lung cancer he was gone quickly with only two of his sons by his side.
He had talked at people for so long that he made it difficult to be with him step-by-step. When he passed I was half way home in a plane over Winnipeg trying to get to his bedside. I always regret not being there more for him, but the dark clouds that enveloped him meant he fought those that tried to help. But I always wonder what might have happened if I held his hand at the end and let him have the last word. Maybe he could finally have made the point that he tried for 80+ years. His was a tough complicated journey to participate in.
I believe we always end up being an amalgamation of our parents. The good and the bad. And in most cases we don’t always have a choice of which characteristics we end up with. What I do know about my make up is that I learned brevity in spite of my father, I know I learned patience from watching my Mom and from years of all day lectures by my Dad. I know I got my sense of humour from both of them. I got simplicity from Mom and complexity from Dad. I know many of my negative qualities and can identify their origin, I could go on and describe them but I have already written what I believe is the longest blog post in over five years.
We all have to make our choice in how we approach Cancer. In my case I am simply living with Cancer, it is part of me, albeit unwanted. But it’s part of me and I’m going to OWN how I live with it.
I hope you find your way as well.
Thanks for listening, I consider this blog a therapy session. In reading it I know I’ve written it for me, not you. I hope something resonates and if it does it’s a bonus. But I feel like I finally understand my Dad a bit better now, and that is one of the gifts that Cancer has given me. It gave me a reason to think.
Love you Mom and Dad. Miss you tons.
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