For those who know me well, walking is not my thing. Physically, it pains me due to extensive hip complications and I find the scenery uninspiring. Thistles swaying in the breeze, black flies buzzing at my nose and dust filling my lungs do not conjure kind thoughts as I scan the brittle grass for snakes. Therefore, announcing I am taking the dogs for a walk is generally a sign my emotional gauge is rising fast.
It's been eight months since the alarm bells started ringing for my husband and I. I’m no longer a particular fan of bells or ringing, they are still going, yet it seems we are the only ones who hear them some days. Other days our community hears the toll and rallies – we have been blessed with favours, lawns mowed, trees tended, ironing done, shopping fetched, treats purchased, messages of encouragement, funny videos, personal visits, kind words and so the list goes on. On Friday, Daryl received an anonymous gift from Comfort Quilts Against Cancer. We have no idea who this is from, who arranged it - we wish we did because then Daryl could thank them for their kindness and consideration. The gift brings him joy, knowing someone out there thought of him in this time of trauma; the gift also brings realisation that he belongs to that special club only reserved for cancer sufferers - the club nobody wants to join.
It's been eight months since the alarm bells started ringing for my husband and I. I’m no longer a particular fan of bells or ringing, they are still going, yet it seems we are the only ones who hear them some days. Other days our community hears the toll and rallies – we have been blessed with favours, lawns mowed, trees tended, ironing done, shopping fetched, treats purchased, messages of encouragement, funny videos, personal visits, kind words and so the list goes on. On Friday, Daryl received an anonymous gift from Comfort Quilts Against Cancer. We have no idea who this is from, who arranged it - we wish we did because then Daryl could thank them for their kindness and consideration. The gift brings him joy, knowing someone out there thought of him in this time of trauma; the gift also brings realisation that he belongs to that special club only reserved for cancer sufferers - the club nobody wants to join.
According to the recovery book we haven’t made chapter one, we should be into chapter 4 or 5. It feels like failure. We are told it’s not. It still feels like it. I am asked ‘How is Daryl?”. Daryl is asked ‘How are you?” People see him and say, you look so much better. People say, it’s good you are recovering. People say, you must be glad it’s over. People ask me if it’s better now Daryl is getting better. The answer is beyond complicated. And so, we blur the truth because we cannot hurt those who care. The truth is impossible to share, not even on these pages.
We know people need it to be better – we need it to be better. But cancer doesn’t care what anyone needs. It cloaks you in dark shadows and layers judgement upon you so you can feel beaten daily, at least that how it is right now. With each set back, with each struggle, with each hurdle, the tears go unseen, shed in privacy, away from the sympathetic eyes, hearts full of grief for their fellow human’s sorrow and gratefulness it is not their own journey. We understand, we are the same. If we began to utter the truth to ‘how are you?’ the emotion would be too much to bear. So instead, we keep trying to see past the shadows, shrug off the cloak of judgement and look for the signs of success through the lens of hope.
So, for those of you who continue to stand by us, hang in there, for the ride is not over. Please don’t get off just yet, because we need you to stay with us until we can all hop off together.
Below is a piece written by someone else who has battled through the darkness of cancer. It was sent to us and may help you understand this insidious journey.
"What’s it like to go through cancer treatment? It’s something like this:
One day, you’re minding your own business, you open the fridge to get some breakfast, and OH MY GOD THERE’S A MOUNTAIN LION IN YOUR FRIDGE.
Wait, what? How? Why is there a mountain lion in your fridge? NO TIME TO EXPLAIN. RUN! THE MOUNTAIN LION WILL KILL YOU! UNLESS YOU FIND SOMETHING EVEN MORE FEROCIOUS TO KILL IT FIRST!
So, you take off running, and the mountain lion is right behind you. You know the only thing that can kill a mountain lion is a bear, and the only bear is on top of the mountain, so you better find that bear. You start running up the mountain in hopes of finding the bear. Your friends desperately want to help, but they are powerless against mountain lions, as mountain lions are godless killing machines. But they really want to help, so they’re cheering you on and bringing you paper cups of water and orange slices as you run up the mountain and yelling at the mountain lion - “GET LOST, MOUNTAIN LION, NO ONE LIKES YOU” - and you really appreciate the support, but the mountain lion is still coming.
Also, for some reason, there’s someone in the crowd who’s yelling “that’s not really a mountain lion, it’s a puma” and another person yelling “I read that mountain lions are allergic to kale, have you tried rubbing kale on it?”
As you’re running up the mountain, you see other people fleeing their own mountain lions. Some of the mountain lions seem comparatively wimpy - they’re half grown and only have three legs or whatever, and you think to yourself - why couldn’t I have gotten one of those mountain lions? But then you look over at the people who are fleeing mountain lions the size of a monster truck with huge prehistoric sabre fangs, and you feel like an asshole for even thinking that - and besides, who in their right mind would want to fight a mountain lion, even a three-legged one?
Finally, the person closest to you, whose job it is to take care of you - maybe a parent or sibling or best friend or, in my case, my husband - comes barging out of the woods and jumps on the mountain lion, whaling on it and screaming “GODDAMMIT MOUNTAIN LION, STOP TRYING TO EAT MY WIFE,” and the mountain lion punches your husband right in the face. Now your husband (or whatever) is rolling around on the ground clutching his nose, and he’s bought you some time, but you still need to get to the top of the mountain.
Eventually you reach the top, finally, and the bear is there. Waiting. For both of you. You rush right up to the bear, and the bear rushes the mountain lion, but the bear has to go through you to get to the mountain lion, and in doing so, the bear TOTALLY KICKS YOUR ASS, but not before it also punches your husband in the face. And your husband is now staggering around with a black eye and bloody nose, and saying, “can I get some help, I’ve been punched in the face by two apex predators, and I think my nose is broken,” and all you can say is “I’M KIND OF BUSY IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED I’M FIGHTING A MOUNTAIN LION.”
Then, IF YOU ARE LUCKY, the bear leaps on the mountain lion and they are locked in epic battle until finally the two of them roll off a cliff edge together, and the mountain lion is dead.
Maybe. You’re not sure - it fell off the cliff, but mountain lions are crafty. It could come back at any moment.
And all your friends come running up to you and say “That was amazing! You’re so brave, we’re so proud of you! You didn’t die! That must be a huge relief!”
Meanwhile, you blew out both your knees, you’re having an asthma attack, you twisted your ankle, and also you have been mauled by a bear.
And everyone says “boy, you must be excited to walk down the mountain!”
And all you can think as you stagger to your feet is “Fuck this mountain, I never wanted to climb it in the first place.”
Until next time,
N
