My stepdaughter told me today about an art show in town this week. At the time, I was sitting on the floor with my four year old granddaughter. We were having fun, going through the two boxes of CRAP (WHAT?) that culminated from my 14.5 year commitment to a job that, I believed, defined me. (Honestly? I still believe it defines me--I just can't take away what's happened since May 14th and, as they say: "Onward and upward." [Whatever THAT means!]) Anyway, I pulled from the box many things, explaining the significance as best I could: the American flag that had sat on my desk in a place of prominence since the 911 attacks; a giraffe pen someone gave me that has push levers in the back--when you press them it looks like the giraffe is boxing; the Grinch doll that I'd bought because it was a reminder of my mom's favorite Christmas movie; a Barbie, hair cut like mine, dressed kind of like I dress--brought to a Texas Hold 'em/St. Patrick's Day party at our house--see, if I placed a bet, my "friend" would stab the Barbie or twist its head or put her head in her mouth and bite Barbie's head off as a kind of voodoo talisman against my bid (buy-in was $10 and we made penny bets). I think that particular party went down around 2004 or 2005--GREAT night. And of course, my duck, Howard--my boss's daughter gave me Howard when she hung out with my nieces (in town from Oklahoma)--I mention these items because they were used by me and other members of our staff on occasion when markers just weren't cutting it and diversions were necessary to dry many a tear from a visiting toddler's eye. Howard, more than anyone, soothed many a child. My boss's daughter is now a married woman, my nieces are all grown up and life has moved onward... and upward. Memory lane... sometimes I think I write these things so that if in the future I lose the ability to remember my life I can read my words and maybe something will "stick". That is the most terrifying part of all of this really. Losing those times where I "made a difference" and friends were family. We've shared weddings, funerals, lost siblings, illnesses, watched children grow up, lost a child... I don't want to forget. There ARE worse things than cancer.
Back to the purpose of my post. My stepdaughter, as I said, came to tell me about an art show scheduled for Thursday--the 41 year old female artist, "Has the same kind of cancer you have." She was diagnosed in May (as was I), but has had five surgeries since. She is undergoing a clinical trial at MD Anderson. As a result of her surgeries, she has lost the peripheral vision in both eyes "from the left". Her artwork, I am told, is an expression of this loss. Being a selfish WHAT! person, I of course stopped listening when I heard: "She has what you have and was diagnosed in May. She's had five surgeries..." WHAT? I made her start over: "What do you mean she has what I have? What kind of cancer is it again? We are NOT the same. My doctor didn't recommend that I undergo any trials and said he would not because I was not a candidate--said 'If you HAVE to have brain cancer, this is the kind you'd want to have.' I don't understand. Do you mean she has an oligo dendro glioma, or glioblastoma?" And quick question: "How do I know what these FREAKING words MEAN?"
You see... it is obvious. I am a coward. I thought I was brave and handling this brain cancer scare thing really well. I thought I was doing what they told me, doing as much as I could, puzzles, brain teasers, math, keeping active--sitting on the couch for five months active? WHAT?! Anyway, I found out that this poor creature, my sister-in-cancer-in-life has glioblastoma. OH! SHE has glioblastoma. I have oligo dendro glioma. We're not the same at all. NOW I can afford to be magnanimous. Oh poor thing. Of course we'll go to the art show because we must show our support for this creature who has something worse than me. I am not HER. I don't have what SHE has. I can afford to see her, talk to her, look at her art--maybe even buy something.
WHAT?! Who do I think I am? I picture Queen Elizabeth, riding in her carriage, hand moving slowly back and forth, looking down at this poor woman and the THOUSANDS of others WORSE off than me because they have the "bad" cancer. Cancer, wherever it may appear, will affect every single person who reads these words. You, your friends, your family, your pastors, your employers, your employees, your children... will know the heartbreaking reality of what cancer WILL do to a loved one. Cancer rips a hole in your soul. It steals one's privacy, dignity, creativity, sight, hearing, the ability to lift your arms around those coming to offer support and comfort. People passively say "I'll see you in hell." Well, I say that cancer is hell on earth. Cancer ravages our loved ones and takes them to places too horrific for words--dragging you into the depths of despair, fear, and the unknown with them. YES I believe that my God is an awesome God. YES I believe that there is a reason these things happen. YES I believe that I will face my God and that He will find me worthy of the joys of Heaven. But I'm also an experienced "cancer survivor"--my best friend when we were 26 died of metastatic melanoma, my grandfather died of liver cancer when I was 24, my father died of liver cancer in 1989; my mother died of renal cell cancer in 1995; my grandmother died of glioblastoma in 2008; a dear friend who I had coined "my surrogate mother" died of lung cancer in 2010. I have personally been asked by three different people if I would end their lives as they struggled with late-stage cancer. What an awful end to beautiful lives lived. Whether or not I'm "the same" as this beautiful artist who is putting her artwork on display for the world to see and appreciate, or whether or not our illness is "the same" is irrelevant. What IS relevant is that we ARE survivors, struggling to save our lives. Although this woman who is unknown to me and I may be at different stages of this battle, we ARE at war. We are at war against this deadly disease. WHAT are we going to do about it?
I'm forming a team: "Dudes and Dames for Brains." There will be a 5k here in Austin on March 17th at Camp Mabry. It is the inaugural walk to find a cure for brain cancer in Austin. I am thrilled. Once my account is set up I'll send you a link. If we get $10k (yes I'm ambitious), we'll get our own tent! Guess who wants a tent?! For now, Go here: http://www.texasoncology.com/head-for-the-cure/ -- to get the scoop. I am Diane Reed. I am an 8 month survivor of oligo dendro glioma. Cancer is an indiscriminate thief. WHAT are we going to do to put an end to this filth in our lifetime?! For now, we WALK! (Or run. Or even cycle--I'm not picky!)
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