You Know What's Weird . . . ?

You know what's weird? Life just moves on. Finding out I had cancer was this catastrophic moment in my and my family's life. It was a big deal all around for two or three weeks - and then regular old life squeezed itself back in. Rude. Once we got accustomed to the realization, it simply became part of the fabric of what we have to deal with now. The treatment is all laid out for me, and I am in the midst of it, counting down the number of weeks until it is finished. It is certainly a grind at this point. I know that I am weary of it, my family must be very weary of it - only they don't get the luxury of showing it. How tacky would that look? Getting irritated with me for laying around so much, sick of me looking sick and complaining about my funky side effects, not pulling my fair share of the work. I get all of the "How are you doing?" concern from people. They have "boo-boos" and times when they aren't feeling well, but I have cancer. They are not allowed to show those things. There's no polite way for them to voice those feelings. No matter what their aches and pains or illness's or needs - I HAVE CANCER. It trumps all. It's not fair - not fair for anybody.

Juxtaposing the grind and the awfulness of this illness, are these brilliant moments of grace and loveliness that are hard to describe. These moments are like bright lights that only show because there was this darkness to place them in. It's not that I want to have cancer, or would wish it upon anyone, but in some weird way it has been a gift due to these beautiful and moving moments. I may never have experienced them were it not for the cancer. Certainly not at this level. People are capable of such generosity of spirit and soul. It moves me immeasurably. It has gotten me to start writing again, and that is incredibly fulfilling. I almost hate to start listing examples, they are so numerous, I will most certainly leave some out. Having said that, I have to share some moments.

The first morning after getting my diagnosis, I went to church. I met up with a couple of women friends who are also going through very difficult issues in their lives. We were all teary eyed and leaning on each other for support. In the midst of this somber moment, my one friend pipes up, "Look at us, are we trying to one-up each other with who has the worst problems?!" We laughed, teary eyed for several minutes. It's weird that you can have a good laugh in the middle of such difficult times. After church, I went in to work to tell my boss and co-workers the news. I work at the church rectory, so it was only a matter of crossing the courtyard and speaking with the priest who had just said mass. He is also my boss. I also consider him a dear friend. I knew I had good co-workers that I enjoyed working with - but this experience has shown me that what I really have are terrific friends who are ready to drop everything and do what needs to be done to help a friend. My dear friend, the father's response was, "What do you need? What can we do for you?" Oddly enough, my response was that I needed to clean my house. I needed to get my house in order, and be with my family. Without a thought about the difficulty this might pose for work, he sent me off to do just that.

The school my children attend is attached to our church. Two of my female co-workers escorted me up to the school to speak with the principal. We had broken the news to our children, and wanted the school to be aware of the situation as well. The principal could not have responded any better. Not only did she hug and cry along with us, she reassured me not to have a single worry about my children. They would watch out for them and take care of them. That is exactly what I needed to hear. Their school environment is like a second home, and I know they are well taken care of.

The care and concern that came pouring in was like an avalanche of love. I felt like my entire community had circled the wagons around my family. People had masses said in my name. Cards, flowers, food, e-mails, books, help, time . . . the list go's on. My mother-in-law came to stay with us. She called me and said "I don't want you to worry about a thing. I'm going to come and take care of you. You can get rest, I can cook and help with the kids, and you will get better." She has done just that. It is an incredible ease on my mind that while I am out of it, there is a second "mom" to step in and help take care of my family. I'm sure it is quite a heavy burden, this burst of crazy kid energy to deal with - but she moves along like it's second nature and just takes care of business. I don't know that I can ever express to her enough what a huge help this has been. She has certainly gone way above and beyond and holds a very special place in my heart forever.

Victoria. Want to cut your hair off? She'll take you! Need a wig? She'll find the best place and take you! Pre-chemo breakfast? Trip to the movies? Watch your kids? Take you to the doctors? Eternal cheerleader extraordinaire? You guessed it. Victoria.

Bernadette, Eileen, Edna, Roxane, Bridget, Chris, Deirdre, Claire, Victoria, Jennifer, Judy, Kathy, Sheila (I know I'm leaving names out - there are so many amazing women in my life!) These crazy, wonderful, fabulous women threw me a "Cancer Shower". Yes, you heard that right - a cancer shower! They showed up with scarves on their heads, gifts in their hands and shared good food and good friendship for an evening. They made cancer seem very small compared to their large generosity - not to mention, a really fun time! I love them all. As an aside, Bernadette knits chemo-caps and makes chemo-pops like the wind!

I have a new friend. She is a most lovely person that I thought of as a friendly acquaintance until recently. I knew her mainly through my husband - but now I am fortunate enough to know her a little. And what I now know is that she has an enormous capacity for caring and concern - a spirit so generous, I am overwhelmed. Not only did she spend time listening to my ramblings and responding - she did double duty by listening and responding to my husband as well. Like clockwork, she arrives on my doorstep with enough fabulous food to feed an army! (cinnamon rolls to die for!) Every time chemo arrives, she slips in like the stealth food-bomber, and makes sure my family is well-fed while I am unable to care for them. One of the most memorable days this entire summer for my children, was the day they spent with her and her family at the beach, and at her home. She has opened her home and her heart, and I must say, it is easy to waltz right in! I hope you are all lucky enough to find a friend like Sharon.

My chemo buddy, also known as my sister Helen. She hauls herself out of bed incredibly early so that she can drive an hour to my house and then another hour to my Dr.'s office and then sit 4 to 5 hours through chemo with me. She is extremely organized and keeps all my meds and appointments straight. After all that, we still have to get me home, and then she has a long drive, usually through rush hour traffic, to get herself home. What can I say? Chemo buddy sounds so trivial. Chemo triathlete is more like it. Love and thanks to you, my dear sister.

Father Ed. You know, he is a whole story unto himself - look for a future blog-piece to list all of his antics! It's weird. If you had told me a few years back that I would have a priest as a good friend, or that I would have stories and "antics" to write about, I would never have believed you. You know what's weird . . .? All of it. It's good weird and it's bad weird - but it's all just so weird!