Sadness for an inspiration

I was very sad to hear that Elizabeth Edwards is nearing the end of her journey. She has been an inspiration to me, and helped me to keep going. I know, I know……I can hear you thinking to yourself. Why her, why not some other famous person with cancer. It’s because Mrs. Edwards was diagnosed with the exact type of cancer I have, she’s just four years ahead of me.


In the past I used to think…..OMG, I’m dying of cancer. My heart would pound, my brain would race, the anxiety I felt would stop me dead in my tracks. However Mrs. Edwards would just go on, her mantra became my mantra. Instead of dying of cancer, I would say…..OMG, I’m living with cancer. Not much changed, my brain still races, the anxiety still at times stops me, but my heart stopped beating so loud and I could turn around to notice my children’s smiles, the sun shining on my face, the music of laughter with my friends and the joy of seeing another season pass.

My heart goes out to Mrs. Edwards’s family and I think of her young children. Is this what my children will experience in the future? And when will the cancer cells in my body say that my journey is at an end?

Why?

Emma is in her room, playing with her Webkinz animals. Hannah’s downstairs doing the dishes, singing songs at the top of her lungs. Rainer’s playing sad music in the room below me. And I sit here softly crying, wondering why.


Why did I get cancer, why did it spread to my bones, why do I hurt so badly? Why can’t I vacuum the floor anymore, why can’t I get out of the bathtub without help? Why do we have to have money? Why does my heater break down every two years? Why must it get cold in November? Why does the refrigerator no more automatically defrost? Why must I use a cane? Why is the water guy going to turn off our water in 10 days? Why does money have to be important? Why can’t people just get along? Why am I so selfish? Why are my toes and finger numb? Why can I no longer work? Why does God no longer answer my prayers? Why must I sit listless in this chair? Why am I getting older in my children’s eyes? Why does is rain? Why can’t I fly to Tahiti and surprise my best friend? Why are my bones crumbling? Why is it so gray? Why do the tears roll down my cheeks spotting my sweater?

The more I look for answers the more questions there seem to be. And I keep moving, trying to dodge the fates that are continued to throw at me.



I can smell the lasagna wafting its flavor up the staircase to where I sit. I hear dogs running up and down the stairs. I feel so old. I am so tired. But they call up to me, Mom dinner’s ready. I answer back; I’ll be down in a sec. I am going to go wash up my face and pretend some more.

Why is this life so hard?