Cancer F**king Sucks

My mother-in-law has cancer.

It sucks.

I could leave my post at that and people would nod and agree and know that little else needs to be said. But I have always been a verbose kind of person so I have a lot more to say.

It f**king sucks.

If you haven't met my mama then you are missing out. She is an amazing lady. She is funny and sweet. She can be silly. She has the biggest heart for people. She is intelligent and happy and fun loving and wise and kind and everything.

But even if she was the most horrible person ever, what she is going through would still suck.

This last year we have stood with her as she has faced chemo treatment, lost her hair, laughed and cried, went through radiation, and finally finished treatment. Yesterday she went for her checkup and has been told to come back today with a support person. They have also already booked her in with a surgeon. It isn't looking good but we don't know how bad it is yet.

The number one sucky thing about cancer - the almost never ending waiting in limbo for results, for treatment, for more results.

Understandably, we are all shaken by this development. I can't even fathom how she must be feeling, but I know that I feel like my heart is cracking and my stomach is knots. I watch my husband closely, knowing that he is hurting, but knowing we don't know how much to hurt yet. I want to be there for him when it really hits home, but I have no idea what I will do when it does. I want to hug them all and by sheer force of will keep them all from falling apart, but I know I can't.

Sucky thing number two - the feeling of complete helplessness in the face of the invisible enemy.

Luke and I have decided that we need to be near the family during all of this. Every one is emotionally exhausted after the last year of treatment, and we know they will need us if we have to face more of the same. So I have told my work that I will be handing in my notice soon. We are looking at houses to rent. I am applying for jobs in another city. Our entire lives are about to change. I want to do it, I know we need to do it, but I am scared. Not about the move, but about how I am going to have the emotional energy to support my husband and family and also be able to look for new work and housing. And I feel selfish for worrying about my ability to cope, because this isn't about me.

Sucky thing number three - the not knowing what will happen and therefore not being able to plan well for the future.

I am scared for my family and how we will all cope with bad news. I am scared for her and how everyone will keep going. And I am angry that this is happening. And sad. And confused. And worried. Grrrrrrr......I hate this!

Sucky thing number four - watching the people you love suffer.

Today I am taking one step at a time. I am hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I have written check lists for things that need to be done to make sure I don't forget anything in the days ahead. I am trying to remember to breathe and rest in Jesus.

And I am praying. Praying so hard.

Mama, I love you. You have brought me so much joy and love and I hate that you are going through this. Hopefully our move will make it that much easier for you. As a family we will face this. With Jesus we have hope no matter what the outcome. I wish I could make this better for you, and knowing I can't is hard.

We are on our way Mama. We will be there as soon as we can.

The Thorn in my Side

Most people who know me describe me in similar ways (trust me, I know, I have asked). They say I am bubbly, outgoing, talkative, friendly, loyal, sometimes a bit know-it-all and controlling when I want things done my way (which is, of course, the right way!). I know my strengths and I know my faults.

I have learnt these things not just from talking to others but from the soul searching I have done over the last few years since my first marriage fell apart. I know what I like and what I don't like. I know to listen to my gut about things as usually my feelings are spot on, even when I don't have a logical explanation for them. I know I have a tendency to be competitive and aggressive in certain situations, so for the most part I avoid those scenarios. I have issues with food and weight, as well as other addictions that I have had to combat.

I am ok being honest about these things.

But there is something in my life that I am not ok with.

I don't talk about it.

I don't like to acknowledge it.

It makes me feel weak and useless.

And if there is one thing I don't like, it is feeling weak and useless.

It won't seem major to you guys. I know it seems like I am building this up, but I doing that less than I am just not sure how to say it without sounding stupid.

Because I get sick.

A lot.

I have migraines that put me in bed for a couple of days at a time. 

I have other days where my body shuts down and I can sleep the entire day.

If I don't do this I get migraines or illness or who knows what other ailments. 

For every two days I work/study I spend one day recuperating. 

And it pisses. me. off.

It also scares the bejeezus out of me. This is because when I was married the first time I was very mentally unwell. I was on a lot of medications to deal with what was going on in my head, and one of the side affects of this was that I slept. A lot. Like 20 hours a day, no jokes. I get terrified every time I feel tired that I am going back to that. That one day it will move from a physical tired to a mental illness tired and I will be back in the hell I lived in for years and yet, by the grace of God, managed to escape.

My ex also hated it. I get afraid that my hubby now will one day get sick of it just like ex did. That he won't be able to handle me being like this and will pull away from me and leave. I know that he isn't like that (one of the reasons I love him so much) yet the scars remain and so does the fear.

I get scared that I will not be able to achieve all I dream about doing. I feel like God has pulled me in certain directions to do certain things and yet I feel that my body is stopping me doing it. That makes me scared that I am hearing from God wrong or that somehow I will fail. In my theological mind I know that the God I know doesn't have a achieve/fail rating on people, but in my emotional mind I am afraid of letting God down. I have been given so much back, should I not being giving everything?

I am afraid that I will always be like this. I know that there are others out there with much worse health issues than me. Off the top of my head I can think of three people that I keep in contact with whose health issues cause them pain, are degenerative, or have them in wheelchairs. I also have a mother-in-law who is battling for her life against her own body, fighting against cancer. I am grateful that I have a body that can do what it does and a mind that is able to write a thesis and be mentally well. Yet I am afraid that I will never have enough energy for having children, working full time, doing ministry, and a variety of other things.

At these times I remember Paul and the thorn in his side. No one really knows what it was, but some educated guesses reckon he was going blind. For someone who relied on getting letters to people, that must've been a huge blow. He must have hated it. Yet he speaks of giving thanks in all circumstances, of praising God for what has been given. This man founded most of the early church and was going blind! And while that should give me hope, it makes me feel the pressure of my own expectations to do as well with or without my health issues. I mean, if a blind man could, why can't I?

Growing up in this world we are faced with too many expectations. I had them from my family. I remember distinctly being told that our family aimed to be CEO's, not the workers. And to some extent I am proud of that ethos, even if it is misguided. Then the rest of my life I have been bombarded with images of what it means to be the perfect woman, mother, wife, worker. At church I am told how to be a great mother but that also church people are involved in 101 church activities. Even now my pastor and his family (who are great people and whom I love very much) set the bar pretty high by being involved in so many things I don't think they actually sleep.

Yet when I tell people what I am struggling with I am told to take it easy, rest it worship, do what I can and no more. But this is at odds with everything else that the world is screaming at me, what I see in my church, and what I fundamentally believe about myself from what I grew up with.

So how does one accept where they are at? 

I was talking to my friend, and theologian, Immanuel Koks the other day about this. He is in a wheelchair because of dealing with Cerebral Palsy since birth. He is highly intelligent, gentle, and teaches me so much about love and peace just by being around him. I asked him how do I accept where I am at. He answered that it is less about accepting the illness and more about accepting the days when you don't accept it. In other words, it is ok to have days where you are pissed off, and you have to be ok with them.

Well people, I am pissed off.

And I am NOT ok with that.

I am not ok with not knowing each day if I will make it out of bed.

I am not ok with my hubby having to watch his wife have bad days.

I am not ok with this at all.

And what I am really not ok with is that this is most likely my fault.

That is right. I did this.

When I was mentally unstable I was on so many drugs I can't even remember all of their names. They were all drugs that affected my brain. And when I decided that life was too hard, I decided to try and OD on some of these potent drugs. I ended up in hospital, vomiting up charcoal they forced down my throat, being observed in ICU. The lethal dose I took of these pills and the type of pills they were means that there is a very high chance that I was the one who damaged my body.

I am to blame.

I don't know if I can put into words what knowing that does to me. I don't know if I can capture the regret and anger and frustration that I feel. I don't know if you will understand how that compounds all the other feelings of failure and guilt that I feel around this issue.

I believe in a God who takes away the sins of the world. I believe it and know it to be true. I know that I have been forgiven, accepted, healed, and delivered from my past just as effectively as if it had been someone else's life. Yet the repercussions remain and I feel bad for praying for healing because I feel I deserve the pain for what I did to myself. I feel like it is pay back.

I know that is wrong.

I know I am worth more than that.

I know if I was counselling someone else in this position I would be telling them that they were forgiven and don't have anything to pay back.

I know it.

So how do I believe it??

Why I am Safe from Serial Killers (and other stories)

Hubby and I love the programme Criminal Minds. We have all the seasons on dvd which we watch fairly regularly. We just got the latest season so most nights are spent curled up in front of the tv watching people learn new ways of killing others.

It's good fun.

I have learned a lot from this programme about how to avoid death at the hands of a serial killer. But what I have discovered is that I am in fact pretty safe from the psycho's that roam the world. 

Here are my top 5 ways that you too can be safe from serial killers:

5. Be a Snob

You are a social person who loves to meet new people. Well, stop it. Criminal minds has shown me that staying at home and avoiding people at all costs is really the only way to go. When you finally get to the desperate situation of HAVING to go out to get food, toilet paper, or any other essentials (and trust me, you can learn to live without a lot) then ignore anyone who may talk to you. Check out assistant asks how your day was? Avoid eye contact and say nothing. World Vision collector asks for your spare change? Scream, throw some newly acquired shopping at them, and run to your car. An old friend wants to catch up? Tell them (better to yell it at full volume) to leave you alone, you don't know them. Snobbing people could save your life.

4. Never, ever, under any circumstances, move to America

We all know that Americans are strange. But did you know, as Crim Minds has enlightened me, that all next-door neighbours in America are in fact psychopaths just biding their time? It's true! The nice old man to the sweet little child are all waiting to kill you! So avoid the whole country. It is simply easier that way. You just have to pretend that this very large country doesn't exist and then you will never want to visit it.

3. Stop exercising

That run that makes you feel really great is going to kill you, but not in the way that you think. Serial killers seem to hang out along running trails. They have their serial killer meetings in places where people will be jogging or biking or anything that involves exhausting your body and making you easy prey. Fit people are targets simply because they exercise. If you HAVE to exercise then make sure you do it in a group. But be warned, this too can be deadly unless you have police checked the backgrounds of everyone you are running with. Apparently it is most likely to be someone you know that kills you. You put that together with the whole serial killer obsession with running tracks and all I am saying is that you are gonna die if you keep doing this.

2. Shave your head

It is a well documented fact on Crim Minds that all the victims have perfect hair. Psychos love their hair do's. I mean who doesn't. So it is obvious that in order to avoid said killers, you should go home immediately and shave all your hair off. No crazy person wants to pick up a bald chick, it just doesn't happen. Some of the people on Crim Minds could be hair models!! All you will have to do when attacked it shine your gleaming bald pate at them and they will be the ones running away screaming. 

1. Get Fat.

This is my number one tip. It ties in nicely with number three, though number two may inhibit the amount you can eat to achieve this. All I am saying is that you never see a fat chick on the slab in the morgue. I may not be able to run fast from a person with a knife/gun/rope/taser but have you ever tried to move 140kg of dead weight? That sucker is never gonna get me in his car/van/basement. They are gonna give up after all of 5 seconds. If by some miracle they do manage to get me into their psycho pit of doom, there is the added benefit of a sharp instrument not penetrating as far into my body as with a skinny chick. I may survive a stabbing due to my bulk, whereas those skinny girls will definitely have a major organ hit. So start putting on the pounds people, it may save your life.

I can tell you without a word of a lie that these steps will save your life. I should now, I am a bald, fat, non-exercising, recluse who hates America. And I am safe from some tortured soul torturing me!!

I in fact did not go bald to save my life, but to support someone who is fighting for theirs. My mother in law has breast cancer (let me take this moment to say CHECK YOUR BOOBS LADIES). She is one stage below terminal and going through chemo at the moment. And her hair is falling out. Though this potentially is a bonus at keeping her safe from crazies, it is a difficult and emotional process and one that is not fun to go through.

When we saw how much she was struggling with losing her hair, hubby and I decided to shave our heads to show her that it is just hair, you can be bald and beautiful, and that we are with her every step of the way. 

I didn't think it was that big of a step before I did it, really I just though "woo, let's cut it all off!" Yet afterwards I realised a few things. Femininity, in our culture, is so tied to our hair that when I took it off I felt ugly, less of a woman, exposed, and...well, weird. I became worried that my husband wouldn't find me attractive anymore. I worried about going out into public because it felt like I had branded myself with "CANCER" on my forehead, even though i am not the one with it. I was emotionally rubbed raw, all from just losing my hair.

It has been eye opening to go through it though. I feel I am beginning to understand what my MIL is going through. I feel like I am getting an insight into what it must be like to not be able to hide your illness from others, to see them look, to see the sympathy in their eyes and yet have no one actually say anything about it. It is quite a journey and I have so much respect for the women who have to go through it. It has brought me so much more emotionally closer to my MIL, in ways I never thought would happen due to hair. 

Mama, we love you, and are praying for you.

BALD EAGLES UNITE!!!