We're Only Human.

I sit in the stillness of my home, looking around at what we've created for ourselves so far in our young lives. I feel pride. I feel love. I feel joy and comfort. But I also feel anger and a sense of being incomplete. There's a sense of time running out and it lingers in the air in our home, follows me like a shadow. It comes with a feeling of urgency, to do everything I ever wanted to do and do it fast. To create the life I wanted for my children, learn everything I wanted to learn, see everything I wanted to see, make a difference in the world. They're the things that people dedicate their whole, long lives to achieving and I feel I need to complete these things now, before time slips away from me. So far this life I've shaped for myself since I became an adult, is full of everything I ever wanted. Our home is a source of love and support for one another. We work together as a family and that's all I ever wanted. The last thing I want to do is disrupt the very core of our lives with this illness that came unwanted, vicious and unforgiving. No one deserves cancer. Not just the people who physically have it but the people around them, as well.

It doesn't matter how hard you try to stay positive. When you are living with advanced cancer, there will always be tumultuous emotions weighing you down. 

I went to my pain and symptom management appointment the other day and we discussed my latest scan which was taken a couple weeks ago. Not only is it a clear scan but the cancer that was visible in my neck has completely disappeared. I admit I've shed more than a couple tears in relief and joy at this news. The difficult part is being told this cancer is so advanced that it will come back. That it isn't curable. The happiness I feel at knowing the cancer has disappeared is forever shadowed by the fact that it will still ultimately be what takes me from my children and husband. Like my oncologist said, it won't be next month or even next year. It may not be for a few years. But it will drastically shorten my life and they are almost certain of it. How can a life that is full of so many good things, a life that is depended on by little children, be cut short. No, it doesn't seem fair. I know I could beat the odds. We hear of it happening all the time. But I'm also realistic. And 25/40 lymph nodes is a lot. They want to call it stage 4 and metastatic because of that silly little node doing it's job all the way up in my neck. That's a long way from my stomach. I know my chances are slim of living past the next five years. But I know... I know I was meant to do some really great things in my life. I know I was meant to be a mom. I know I was meant to help people and make a difference. I know I wasn't meant to die young. And this is where the anger comes from. Not knowing what's going to happen. I'm gradually learning to be comfortable with uncertainty, but it's not something you learn overnight. But either way,  I don't want to spend my time being angry and bitter- who does? So I need to acknowledge it, honor it, and move forward. No matter how difficult that is. So here I am, acknowledging it, drinking my coffee and listening to Dora in the living room, wishing I could go back to the trivial little problems I had before I knew I had cancer. Those problems seemed like everything at the time but now seem like nothing.

People say to live life fully in the moment, especially when you have a life threatening illness. Until you have a life threatening illness though, it's very easy to say that. I fully and truly each day try to live by those words though. I wake up every morning thinking of things I'm grateful for and I look at my children and my husband like never before. I stare at them longer, I hug them longer, I tell them I love them more often. I think many times everyday how I will live a long happy life and I will get to snuggle with my grandchildren and even my great grandchildren. It WILL happen, I tell myself. I think of how there's this fundamental idea that our thoughts affect our physical well being. That we can move into perfect health, body and mind, we can heal our sick bodies, help our immune system repair itself and fight like never before the cancer that has invaded our bodies. But it is not easy to stay positive day in and day out. In fact the negative emotions, the sadness, the fear, they never fully go away. We learn to live with those emotions. We cope in healthy ways hopefully, we go to therapy or write in a journal. But they don't just go away. I try to focus on the fact I feel strong and healthy and not like someone who has cancer at all. I walk everyday and listen to my music very loud. Upbeat music that makes me envision myself exploring different parts of the world with Aaron, going on some wild adventure, or doing something fun with the kids. Music that makes me want to shout the lyrics and dance until my legs give out. I go out of my way to occupy myself in a way that I don't think about cancer at all. I feel normal in those moments and I try to make as many of those moments as possible. So I try to embrace life now, cancer and all, but it's not easy and I fail horribly sometimes.

The other night I cried. And Aaron sat with me and just let me cry. It was almost Audrey's 1st birthday and as happy as I felt for that day coming up, I also felt so angry. It turned my stomach to think of leaving her before she would even remember who I was. She's only one years old and I have a foreseeable death sentence. Fuck cancer! The more I cried, the angrier I felt. I screamed, threw my glass, it broke, and I sat on the floor in our room and cried some more. Thankfully the kids didn't wake up. At that moment all I felt was self pity and pity for Aaron and the kids that they have to deal with this too. After a few moments the tears dried up and I felt like I could breathe again. Aaron, sitting on the floor with me, joked how it was too bad I couldn't somehow mutate and become invincible so my body would be cured of cancer, kind of like Deadpool. But without all the torturing, of course. And besides, who doesn't want super powers? It broke the heavy atmosphere. We picked up broken glass and although feeling foolish for losing my cool like that, I now felt relieved. Relieved of the heavy emotions I had been at war with all day long while trying to plan a birthday party for a little girl. Moments like that are inevitable, I think. All we can do is get through it and get up and move forward the best we can.

As for today, the sun is shining and the wind is gentle. Down by the water we collected sea shells and watched little baby crabs dart in and out of rocks. Tristan held his arms out to the ocean, clearly amazed by the vastness of it. I saw this and appreciated his wonderment. And I thought about how much I love life. I love it and I'm not hateful that I have cancer. I still struggle with the anger, but I'm not hateful. I love living and I love feeling alive, not just breathing, but truly alive. The feeling I get when I'm in nature or when the kids and I are having a laughing fit. That type of alive. Cancer doesn't stop me from living life. It has created a shadow that hangs over us and has made me truly understand what disappointment is, but it has not and will not take away my love of life. In this process I'm learning just how important relationships are. We need to let go of the toxic ones, repair the ones that are worth saving, and love and appreciate the good ones. Don't wait until you're ill to really see the people around you. Don't wait to get to know them, don't wait to see their young wonder at the world, and don't wait to tell them you love them or show them you appreciate them. Don't let others negativity wear you down or put up with toxic behaviour. 

I'm learning to really open my eyes. Seek out the simple and beautiful things you might normally not notice. The trees swaying in the wind or the shape of the clouds. It's fucking hard to be positive all the time. So don't. But don't let life and meaningful relationships slip through your fingers. It is so very important. For me, that's letting cancer win. These things take a lot of courage and bravery and I'm not saying I've perfected it by any means. Not even close. But I'm working on it. It's a steep learning process.

So where do we go from here? This journey is an unstable road full of twists and turns that is incredibly hard to navigate at times. I know for myself and my family, we need to take a deep breathe and keep trudging forward. We rely on those willing to help along the way and fill our hearts with gratitude and love whenever possible. I'm not always strong and I'm not always positive. Some days I'm down right scared and some days I'm very angry. But we keep trudging forward, hoping for new treatment options and renewed strength.

Some days all I want to do is listen to my very loud music and dream of wonderful things, like grandbabies and old age. That's okay too! Plus, I never have to go very far for a hug or a good, soul warming snuggle. These are things cancer can never take away.

To Be a Caregiver. Our Super Heroes in Disguise.

Sometimes we have to acknowledge the heroes in our lives. And sometimes our heroes aren't always seen as such. Sometimes they just seem like regular people doing regular things to those peering in at our lives from the outside. These heroes I'm referring to are our caregivers, our co-survivors, the people who take care of us when we are sick from chemo or to weak to walk from surgery or too down and overwhelmed to get showered and dressed. They hold us, they listen to us, they let us lean on them hard, all the while dealing with their own problems and worries. They can be our spouses, parents, siblings, children, doctor, social worker, friend... They can be anybody. And I know from my own experience how vital they are and how my caregiver has helped me cope and grow as a person.

Now a cancer diagnosis has a way of taking over major parts of your life in the beginning, just like the rogue cells themselves trying to take over the healthy ones. We don't want it to take over, but once you hear those 3 cold words, it's inevitable. At least for a little while and for some, much longer. So far in my experience as a young adult, we go from having the illusion that time is on our side. We're trying to get our careers off the ground, saving for a home, watching our small children grow... I think for everyone, no matter the age, we feel time is abundant and even if we logically know anything can happen to anyone, it's incredibly difficult to fathom illness getting in the way of plans and ambitions. We go from that, to suddenly staring our own mortality in the face, our eyes on the clock of life, feeling like it's ticking down faster than we want it to. And even though a cancer diagnosis doesn't automatically mean death (let me repeat that: cancer DOES NOT mean death!) there's a dreaded feeling that comes with it; the feeling of simply not knowing what's going to happen to you now. It's some heavy emotional baggage to wear on your shoulders.

Well our caregivers absorb all of that. We lean on them harder than anyone else when we feel like life is out of control. And they let us, without judgement, with nothing but love and commitment to always being there for us. From their point of view, they are watching someone they care deeply about struggle with their health. I can only imagine the feelings of helplessness are overwhelming. When you care so much about a person you just want to be able to take away their pain, make them whole and healthy and happy. But unfortunately, when someone has cancer or another serious illness, it's not that simple. There is no magic wand to wave to make them all better. So a caregiver puts on their super hero cape and steps up big in any other way they can; in any way they have control over. They hold us while we vomit, wipe our tears away, listen to our fears, talk to our doctors, advocate for our health, make sure we're eating well, make us laugh, remind us to live in the moment... hug us and love us unconditionally. They might suppress their own feelings of fear and sadness to be there for the person they love, summoning up a strength bigger than themselves to be able to take on the survivor's pain and their own. And even others around them, such as children. They do this while continuing to work, clean, run errands, cook, raise their babies, doing all of the "normal" life stuff that doesn't just stop when you get sick. Our caregivers, our co-survivors- they are truly our super heroes and we do not know what we would do without them.

Life has a way of testing us, I believe. In many different ways. And I can only speak to my own experience, ofcourse. When we were recently told my cancer is highly unlikely to be cured and I might only have 2-5 years before I succumb to it, we were devastated. We had been using the word, "curative" to propel us forward. From the beginning we were told the main objective was to cure. After finding out the cancer had not only spread to 26 lymph nodes, but to lymph nodes far away in my neck, the objective has more become about how to increase my quality of life, not quantity. At 27 years old, with 3 small children- this is hard to truly accept at this point. But it's our reality as a family. Before my husband reaches the age of 35, he might be a widow. My children may not have a mother. It's a surreal situation but one that could happen, nonetheless. That being said, this is how I believe life tests our very strengths. I as a survivor, and my husband as a caregiver. My caregiver won't let me fall apart and he won't let himself fall apart. Even though we live with the fact my time *could* be running out much sooner than we would like, we are choosing to live our lives with love and positivity. We choose to look at the fact that people beat the odds all the time and the fact that I'm young and otherwise healthy, works greatly in our favour. We look at the fact I'm responding very well to treatment. We choose to believe I'm not going anywhere for a very, very long time!
If I didn't have my caregiver (my super hero!) close by my side at this point in my life, I do not know how I would be handling this situation. And it's because of this situation we are realizing just how strong we are. We are realizing that there is so much more to life than we previously thought. Doing what makes us happy and what is best for our children is what we now focus on. We breathe more deeply and tell eachother how much we love one another more often. We are learning to appreciate the things we might not of before, the stuff that makes us human. The temper tantrums and sibling rivalries. The mild annoyances of one another. We are learning the importance of forgiveness. I credit alot of what I have learned to my caregiver, my co-survivor, my super hero. I probably wouldn't of grown so much as a person without his guidance.

As survivors we need to reach out. We need that caregiver to lean on and we need the support of others. And just as importantly, caregivers need support as well. They need to connect with others who get what they are going through and what they deal with on a daily basis. Thankfully, there are many wonderful online communities to reach out to in our time of need.
Facingcancer.ca is one great site dedicated to helping survivors and their caregivers cope. There are forums to ask questions, blogs, and a wealth of information on the newest cancer treatments and programs. They also have a list of other support groups people can access.
For adults ages 18-39, there is Young Adult Cancer Canada (YACC). They have valuable resources to help survivors and their caregivers and connect you with thousands of others who "get it." Their site is youngadultcancer.ca.
For stomach cancer specifically, a new support group has been started in Toronto, Ontario called My Gut Feeling. They offer amazing support to those affected in anyway by stomach cancer. This is so important because there is very little out there in terms of support and research for stomach cancer. My Gut Feeling offers support groups once a month that you can attend from anywhere, in person or virtually, where they discuss educational topics and ofcourse, the emotional aspects of a stomach cancer diagnosis.
For further stomach cancer support there is also a fantastic organization called Debbie's Dream Foundation.

If there's any advice I can give to anyone going through a cancer diagnosis, it's to hug your super hero. Appreciate them and all they do for us. If you have little support, I strongly encourage you reach out to a support group or online community. You will find people who understand what you're going through and people who will help you.
Practice gratitude in whatever ways you can and feel comfortable with. There is no wrong way, even if others have trouble seeing it. And don't forget to breathe.