Dear Cancer, Although you disgust me, always and forever will, on most day I am able to be thankful to you. I am thankful for what I have learned about myself while being face to face with you. I have been able to see exactly what I am capable of enduring, what I am capable of accomplishing....which is kicking your damn butt! But for today, just this one day, please allow me to rant....and by rant I mean please allow me to express my utmost hatred and anger toward you.
Today, above most days, I HATE YOU. I hate you for what you did to me. I hate that you took away my fertility. I hate that you took away my prime years before menopause. I hate that I am now at 39 in menopause and have to suffer some side effects of hormone replacement therapy. I hate that you have scarred me inside as well as out. I hate that my children (6 and 8) look at me and ask what happened to my belly to leave such a big mark. I hate that I have to tell them there is something out there so evil that it will permanently hurt their mommy. I hate that they know that this is something that we can't control and could attack anyone, anytime. But more than hating what you did to me, I hate you for what you did to my mother and to my family 7 years ago, when you first appeared your ugly head. I hate you for the suffering you caused her. The pain she went through, only to lose her beautiful life one year later. I hate that you took away what she wanted most of all, which was to be a grand-maman to my kids. I hate that she never got to meet my beautiful Sophie that was growing inside my belly. I hate you for taking my mom away. I hate that instead of feeling the magic of Christmas this time of year and looking forward to creating beautiful memories with my mom side-by-side, and celebrate with what my family used to be, I am now feeling the emptiness of her not being here. She is so close to my heart and always will be (and that you cannot take away from me) but yet she is so far and I struggle to find happiness this time of year. It becomes harder and harder to just close my eyes and think back on all those beautiful Christmases we did get to have together. HOW DARE YOU. How dare you come into our lives and take that away. She was a good person unlike any other. Her outlook on life was always positive and full of smiles, laughter and love. She lived for her family, her kids, her husband. She loved all those in her life. She also lived to make all those around her happy and comfortable and feel accepted. There was no better person and I truly believe the world is one shade darker without her light shining in it. I could try and try each day yet could never reach the level of goodness that woman had. You should be ashamed of yourself. Dear Cancer, you truly disgust me today above all other days.
2 comments:
Oh ma belle Adèle…your blog post broke my heart. I wish I could just reach out through the screen and give you a gigantic hug.
I wish I could bring mom back for you, for me, for us. I wish I could find ways of snuffing out cancer once and for all, and I wish I could have somehow stopped it from entering your life, and mom’s life. I imagine myself with the sharpest sword, taking the final plunge into the heart of cancer...what a satisfying vision.
So yeah, this time of year isn’t as fun as it should be or used to be, to put it lightly. It’s a reminder of things lost and broken and forever changed. A terrible reminder.
And I don’t know much about why this had to happen and why we (you) have had to face these awful hardships, but I do know this: life is meant for living. And while we are bruised, scarred (deeply, in many ways), hurt, scared, confused and, yes, fucking angry, we are still alive. As you read this, just as when you were writing your blog post, you are breathing. Involuntarily. Your breath just keep pumping blood to your heart, despite everything. It’s insulting, at times. That despite it all, you are alive. We are alive.
The thing is, stupid cancer may have stolen one from team Crôteau. It even damaged some of us, permanently, in many ways. But we’re still here. And I know one lady in particular who wanted nothing more than for us to defy cancer by doing this one thing: Living. Living. Living. Infuriating, I know.
Life is a tremendous gift, even at its most incomprehensible. Tragically, terribly, mom isn’t able to breathe anymore. But we can.
But it isn’t enough to breathe, is it? Maybe we should take it one step further, because GINETTE, and because FUCK YOU CANCER. Let’s get angry and upset and cry and scream and feel like we want to rip the air apart with our teeth: how dare it make us breathe when it’s so painful and when she can’t and when it’s not fair?? Yes, let’s be and do all of that.
But after that, let’s do more than just breathe. Let’s make the most of it, ok? Let’s laugh and love and travel and talk and eat and snooze and run and play and dare to be different or just ourselves, because we can. And because it’s how Ginette raised us. And it’s how she would want us to be.
Cancer has already taken too much from us, Ads. And while we can’t ever pretend it doesn’t exist or that we don’t care, we can sort of give it the shaft by focusing on what is left, on what we do have. I for one know that I am one lucky motherf*cker to have sisters like you, to have had the childhood I had, to mostly be in good health, to have (most of!) my wits about me, to still be able to love and laugh despite the tremendous pain, to experience every bit of life, the good parts and the goddamn awful parts.
I love you Ads, and I love you for your ability to be honest and vulnerable and to say, openly, “I am hurting” or “I am angry”. It’s not easy, and I know sometimes I tend to bury my hurt and pain deep within, licking my wounds in a dark corner like a wild animal. So thank you for reaching out, because I feel like that is what your blog post is: a cry for hugs, love and comfort. A cry for the injustice of this world, a cry to share this pain with others in the hopes of connecting and somehow finding solace.
I love you Ads and I love you Jubes and Cams, more than I can say. Each of you inspire me in totally different but equally significant ways. And I have to thank you, because on top of being great humans and sisters and friends, you make it easier for me to breathe.
I wish I could take the pain and the hurt away. I love you and my heart is with you fools during the holidays, and always.
Your Manners xoxo
XO
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