It's Not About Cancer
by Andrea Seals
I have just experienced a burst of clarity. It came upon me as I was trying to fall asleep. This is odd as I usually get inspired first thing in the morning when I am about to wake up. I can now define my survival strategy for the past year.
One year ago came an abrupt awareness that very little of what the future held was in my control. This was not a small thing. (Though I don’t have an “A” personality, I may have an “A minus“ one.) In my life up to that point, I believed I had modified many of the hard edges with which I was born. Working in groups enabled me to learn the art of cooperation, consultation, and compromise. Being a mother and raising 4 children I learned to demonstrate compassion and kindness and be filled with a wrenching love that will inhabit me throughout eternity. I also am daughter to an aging parent. This new relationship has provided me with ample opportunity to be conciliatory and forgiving and surprisingly objective when necessary. And lastly, a marriage, a unique combination of he and I together for over 30 years, had “rounded out my corners” as my brother-in-law once remarked. I have benefited from the giving and the taking. But most of all I have enjoyed the sharing.
I never expected to share anything that wasn’t welcomed. We had been through the inevitable difficulties that come with every life – every marriage. All these challenges we weathered, together.
Then, my strong, healthy husband was diagnosed with the dreaded C word. Definitely not welcomed. Not only does he have cancer, he was diagnosed with a rare form of a rare form of it at stage four – meaning it was all over his body.
Immediate shock gave way to action out of necessity. The attempt to control any aspect of this thing that comes flying at you is like trying to catch water in a sieve. There is nothing to prepare you for this experience. You just have to learn as you go.
Everyday is different based on ever changing facts: Adjusting to unpronounceable medical terminology and potions, medical professionals – learning who does what to whom and why, preparations and testing, symptoms, side effects. Being in the hospital, out of the hospital, in the labs, out of the labs. Meeting with Doctors, Doctors and more Doctors. Research: Internet, friends, family, phone calls, support systems. Finding out the hard way what questions to ask. Needing to check and double check everyone. Trusting and wondering if trusting was wise. Found myself writing notes about everything and keeping a calendar as a lifeline. Discerning practical information and making decisions about insurance, finances, bills, whose going to take care of the dog, the Grandma, the house? Oh and prayer. We can’t forget the ongoing prayer requests and mystical receipt of them.
Emotions run the gamut. Prayer is always a solace. Yet homework and footwork are absolute. On some days it’s perseverance and patience that fulfills our part of this mysterious process. Other days it’s picking up prescriptions and doing laundry. Whatever it is we have to do our part. It keeps us focused and hope-filled.
We’ve been at this a while now, over a year, actually. He’s not in remission yet, but the disease has been reduced to two very stubborn locations. We have highs and lows like anyone. We only aim to do one thing per day. We have discovered that this is manageable no matter what, so we always complete our list for the day!
Because some meds energize him we may accomplish more. We went to the river one day and he fly fished while I read in the shade. He got all muddy and didn’t catch a thing. We laughed about it. It was a good day.
Chemo is tough on the body. Sometimes it’s a big deal to even get out of bed in the morning. So he’ll drink a simple smoothie in bed followed by a clean toothbrush and a warm washcloth. Then we’ll look at each other and smile knowing we’re BOTH suddenly too sleepy to get up yet. So we snuggle and snooze. That’s a good day too.
My survival strategy for the past year wasn’t a strategy at all. It’s about who I have become as a result of this year’s life lessons day by day. These daily tests have become as much a part of me as loving my children, serving others and breathing. My world is what God put before me, 30+ years ago and today. I am grateful for the man I married and the path we walk along together wherever it takes us. We go willingly.
After awhile it dawned on us that this wasn’t just about cancer – Cancer merely introduced us to the alternate reality of multitudes of people who suffer as a way of life. Suddenly, when you find yourself among them they are no longer the exception, they become the rule you live by. Their comfort, their cure, their pillow, their desire, their joy, their rest, their nutrition, their spirit, their strength, their view of the world at that moment is what matters. His world is my world. His world has changed and I’m in it with him.
We bend to the task of the hour because we can, Sir.
Dan Seals died on March the 25 after a long battle with mantle cell lymphoma. He was 61. For all those who knew and loved him, he will be remembered not just as a wonderful singer and songwriter, but as a gentle, loving, kind, and generous human being. To read more about his life click here.
Dan Seals wrote the following song "One Friend" for his wife Andi.
One Friend
I always thought you were the best
I guess I always will.
I always felt that we were blessed,
And I feel that way, still.
Sometimes we took the hard road,
But we always saw it through.
If I had only one friend left,
I'd want it to be you.
Sometimes the world was on our side;
Sometimes it wasn't fair.
Sometimes it gave a helping hand;
Sometimes we didn't care.
'Cause when we were together,
It made the dream come true.
If I had only one friend left,
I'd want it to be you.
Someone who understands me,
And knows me inside out.
And helps keep me together,
And believes without a doubt,
That I could move a mountain:
Someone to tell it to.
If I had only one friend left,
I'd want it to be you.
'Cause when we were together,
It made the dream come true.
If I had only one friend left,
I'd want it to be you.
Someone who understands me,
And knows me inside out.
And helps keep me together,
And believes without a doubt,
That I could move a mountain:
Someone to tell it to.
If I had only one friend left,
I'd want it to be you.
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