What could be more frustrating than constantly searching for answers that logically and tangibly do not exist? Nothing, I say, nothing.
I know I wrote a whole post (Stages of Grieving a Diagnosis) a few months back about accepting this unknown world, which still stands entirely true but I failed to explicitly expand on the fact that step 5 is basically the trump card of all steps.
I am so goddamn good at giving insightful advice with a touch of humor but I can't even accomplish the things I give advice for on a regular basis. I know they're there. I understand them (obviously I wrote them) and I believe in them. I want you to believe in them too, but I want you to know they're repetitive and at times, entirely unachievable. I suck at forcing myself to write sometimes. Writing has always been my lifelong therapeutic passion. But I freak myself out when I write. Just like I freak myself out when I give advice when I can't even take it. So that's why I'm writing this. As dandy as these methods are and as many times as they repeat themselves, it doesn't mean that you should completely disregard cancer as being a fucking life-sucking bitch. It's not easy to accept. Define acceptable– acceptable in the sense that I cannot do anything in my power to change its existence, to end its existence. And how infuriating that is. So sure, cancer, I can accept your presence in my life now, but that does not mean I don't loathe you deeply.
My younger cousin has cancer now, too. Burkitt's Lymphoma. And I just want to ask, HOW? How is this possible? Why does this keep happening?
My Dad has cancer. (Step 4– I needed to say it.) and it's SO FUCKING STUPID because it makes no sense.
And I'm left clueless. I'm angry but that can't come relatively close to understanding what either of them feel like.
God, I still google every symptom I hear of and scroll, and scroll, and scroll. I search for clinical trials, join cancer networks... Which I suppose is the point of the entire post, just admitting to myself the ridiculous things I'm capable of doing when I'm 'grieving a diagnosis' because it's all I can do. Because I'm sure I'm not the only one. Thankfully, I've gotten to the point where I can talk myself out of it most times. I've gotten a bit more sensible with my googling rituals. I've also found so much serenity in hearing about others' similar experiences because it makes more sense to know I'm not totally batshit crazy.
It's amazing knowing people are out there making a difference. My (other) cousin, did a 106 mile bike ride this past weekend in my Dad's honor for cancer research and awareness. I can't comprehend it because I'm so mind-blown and inspired by being surrounded by people who, likewise, are determined and invigorated to kick cancer in the ass. These are gestures I don't know how to be thankful for because they've made an impact I don't have words for.
I'm confused and angry, happy and peaceful at once and feeling supported through all of those things has been the most powerful piece of the puzzle throughout this entire experience. The fact I can write it all down and be real about whatever the hell is happening is its own form of acceptance, for me. So I guess I don't have all the answers but I do have the most important one: I'm not alone. And a close second: there's no right or wrong way to grieve, as long as we "grieve" together.