Hello All,
I have to admit that I am feeling a bit conflicted these days. I'm sure all of you have had moments like this whether you yourself have cancer or you're the care taker of someone with cancer, or someone you love dearly has cancer.
For those of you who haven't read my previous post, my brother has stage IV colon cancer. He is 31. He is married and has a one year old daughter. Just writing that makes me cry.
My brother is receiving chemo weekly. His regimen includes Folfox 5, Lecouvorin, Oxiplatin, Erbitux, and Avastin. He has had chemo for the last six weeks straight. Two more treatments until he gets scanned again. The side effects weren't too bad initially, but lately the cumulative effects of the treatment seem to present different side effects each week. He has nausea, but hasn't thrown up. He has diahhrea all the time. He is coverred head to toe in a rash caused by the erbitux. He is sensitive to cold. He has sores in his mouth. He can't taste much.
Not once have I ever heard him complain. Although we have all offered to watch his daughter so he can rest, he refuses claiming that she is "the best medicine". His quiet strength humbles me.
Meanwhile, I'm a weepy mess. Why is that? I'm angry all the time. I'm worried all the time. I'm so stressed out over something I absolutely can't control. It's driving me completely nuts. People keep telling me, "you can't worry about it". "Whatever is going to happen, is going to happen". It weighs heavily on my mind always. How can it not? He is my brother. It feels like life will never be the same again.
Not that any of us are guaranteed a certain amount of time, but when something like this slaps you in the face, life feels so uncertain in a way that is almost cruel.
Then there is the rollercoaster ride....the search for things to feel good about, then the uncertainty of what lies ahead. It's such a gammet of emotions that I've never felt before. When he seems happy, I feel happy. When he feels sad, I feel devestated and helpless. I have always been an extremely positive person, but this is certainly testing me.
Does this ride ever end? My brother was diagnosed September 20, 2005. The day they opened him up for emergency surgery and found a body filled unexpectedly with cancer. Maybe the ride isn't supposed to end. Maybe it is supposed to wake us up. I just don't know. Before now, I have always believed that the things that happen to us in our lives happen for a reason. I just don't get this.
I know we all handle things differently. Having two small children of my own, and a husband, I have no idea how I would feel if I were the one fighting the cancer. I can't believe the strength and confidence I find in my brother when he speaks about his illness. He is so completely confident that he will beat this. Why can't I feel that way too?
I come on this website because I need to feel like beating this thing at his stage is possible. Reading posts from other stage IV survivors like Erika, Holly, and Billy keeps me believing. That is the high of the rollercoaster. But then, you read about Lee, who quietly passed from this terrible illness and you're reminded that things may not pan out. It makes me sick.
Cancer is truly a family illness. It effects everyone so differently and people learn different things from the experience. Like the rest of you, I'm doing my best to learn how to enjoy this ride to the best of my ability as we all have to do our best to continue living. My brother on the other hand, is determined that the only ride he is taking is leading him to the road to recovery. That is the only thought he will entertain.
He is my hero.
Thank you all for listening. I know it is safe here to say what I really think, and I can't thank you enough for that safety net.
My holiday wish for all of you is to keep fighting, but more importantly keep believing that anything is possible. If only we could turn back the hands of time when we were young children and we believed whole heartedly that the impossible was possible. Let the magic of the season remind you....
Best wishes always,
Tracey