To Grieve or To Celebrate
The past two weeks have had so much hard in them I don’t dare to write about it here.
Like other difficult things people experience in life this is multifaceted. There is a visual battle ….. chemo for cancer, surgery to remove tumors. There’s a not as visual but still kosher to talk about battle … some of the losses, fear, faith, effects on your family. And then there is other level hard the stuff you only see or grasp if you’ve walked similar shoes. Some things you don’t even want to remember, but they should probably get unloaded with a very safe friend or therapist someday.
It’s odd the way you think it should get better after surgery. Great, cancer is out. Let’s start healing, right? But it’s not that simple. Cancer is filled with a million curveballs like basically nonexistent necrosis and even when it isn’t, some cancers, like osteosarcomas can relapse even while you’re still on chemo.
Some days you think you “should” be celebrating but in reality you are grieving. Some days you “should” be sobbing your guts out, but in reality you feel the presence of God speaking promise to you. There are no rules and somehow you have to let go of self expectations.
But it’s not just your own journey that causes odd emotions.
I just saw a post about a kid diagnosed in October (three months after Liam) with metastatic osteosarcoma and he is now on hospice. This is so heartbreaking. It feels almost wrong to celebrate the goodness happening to Liam The miracle that he didn’t have metastatic disease at diagnosis with such a huge tumor is nothing short of a miracle. I could cry a million tears for that family. The guilt they must feel. The anger. If I put the pieces together correctly he’s the kid at our home hospital who was misdiagnosed for months because he was an athlete and they thought it was just sports injuries. Lots of kids got missed because of Covid and virtual visits. Just heartbreaking. The anguish those parents are going to have to live with.
How do I find space for their grief and my celebration simultaneously? How do I find space for my grief and celebration for other people’s normal? Or my grief at the 5% necrosis and celebration for another child diagnosed almost the same time who had 100% necrosis?
Sometimes you have to know when to walk away and take a break. But there is no way to take a break from knowledge. I have absolutely no idea how I will ever reintegrate into normal life when this is over.