Friday, November 20, 2009

Gains and Losses

It occurred to me the other day that perhaps this blog is too sad. Then I reminded myself that what I want to do here more than anything is provide a faithful and honest representation of what it's like to deal with cancer. I want people to know how much it hurts. I want people to understand what gets glossed over and truly be with me on this journey. Yes, it may be hard to read, but it's even harder to live through, and it's all the more reason why this ride is so important. So here it is. Is it heartbreaking? Sometimes, but it's also very real.

In life, you're going to lose things - it's inevitable. Last week, I lost an earring. This week, I lost one of my leather driving gloves (and I had barely worn them, too!). Toronto sports fans are VERY familiar with losing. Loss. It's not a new concept, but it's still difficult to stomach.

Losses are often tempered by gains. I learned this very well over the past couple of weeks. When I first found out about my dad, I immediately knew who to go to (shout out: I appreciate you guys!). This core group of friends called me or texted me incessantly. They showed up at my door bearing baked goods. Essentially, they wouldn't leave me alone. In serious, emotional situations, my natural inclination is to keep things to myself and try to deal with it, but that tactic wasn't going to work here. My friends held me while I cried, and they cried with me. Most importantly, they didn't treat me any differently. Sure, they checked up on me more often than normal, but we didn't always have to talk about cancer. Nothing had changed in our relationships - they just became stronger.

In contrast, I've had people that I would consider good friends leave my e-mails unacknowledged, and this is what hurts. It's bad enough that I'm facing the loss of my father, but I never thought that I would lose friends, too. And I know that this is not an easy subject. Cancer is scary and uncomfortable, and there are no words to really make things all better, but one of the reasons why cancer is so scary is because it could happen to any of us.

Now is not the time to shy away. Lending emotional support, making donations - these are just a couple ways to help in the fight against cancer. For example, what is ten dollars when you really break it down? A lunch? A couple of specialty coffees? What is ten dollars to The Princess Margaret Hospital Foundation? An investment. An investment in your future and your family's future so that one day, cancer will not have to touch you in this way.

I've spoken about the good, steadfast friends and the MIA ones, but I should also mention the new ones. There were so many people who responded to my story, who provided words of encouragement and contributed to my ride. I didn't expect this, but I'm not surprised. These people understand that this ride is important and right. It helps the heart hurt a little less to know that there are kind, empathic people out there.

Cancer kills more than people, and a week ago, I would have had nothing else to add to this sentence. I didn't see a lesson to be learned, I couldn't see gains to be made - I just saw an overwhelming blackness surround me. Now I can also say that cancer brings people together and makes people respond with so much sincerity and generosity that at the end of the day, I think about how lucky I am to have such wonderful people to turn to in my life.

To everyone who sent me kind words or made a donation: I will always be thankful and touched. To Alyssa, Matt, Cynthia, Scott, and Amy: you five are the very best friends I've ever had. To my new and eccentric secret-operation mates: I never knew that I could share so much and not scare people away. I came home so relieved and comforted, and so happy to know that when I scroll my numbers, I won't come up at a dead end (I hope you feel that way, too!). To Stacey and mom: you are my rocks, and without the two of you I have nothing.

To daddy: you have made all of this possible. You will never know how much your fight has inspired a change in me as well as in others. You are an angel and the greatest man I will ever know. I love you, daddy.

4 comments:

  1. Dana,

    I do think this blog is too sad. I think it’s too sad because under different circumstances you would be writing a blog about fashion or baked goods or new Canadian literature. Instead, you have to write about cancer—and that’s sad and unfair. But I do appreciate that you’ve chosen to share your experience with us.

    Like you, I don’t feel comfortable with emotional situations. I like them to stay in contained little packages. I study them in books and movies and art (I’m more often moved by these imaginary worlds than the “real” one). Sometimes I chart their development in analytical essays (As you know, I do this at a blistering pace). Maybe this has made me more MIA than I should be, but I’m still here—like, on the other end of the subway line here—and I miss you guys!

    I know Team Hendy is going to OWN this ride, and I would love to help with the fundraising you need to help you reach (and exceed!) your goal. I could even bake “special” cupcakes like the Glee kids. As for the physical training...I could potentially be up for that too, but there will probs be heat rash and/or unfortunate bouts of spitting involved, jsyk!

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  2. Oh Steph! We appreciate you too! Without you, "LOLZ" are hard to find!

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