Cancer Sucks!

I'm just going to say it, Cancer sucks.  I will be honest enough, I haven't lost as many people near and dear to me to Cancer as other people have, but still, I think it, well, it sucks, for the unwillingness to use a more profane statement.

  In my life, there was my grandfather, Jake, who it took first.  As a child of 6, this was the most devastating hit.  He went so fast after the diagnosis and got so ill.  I don't have a lot of memories of the time.  In the 70's children weren't allowed in hospitals unless they were patients or it was a dire situation.  When it got to be a "dire situation" I was allowed to go to the hospital in Battle Creek, Michigan to see him.  In his hospital bed, with tubes and machines, he didn't look like my grandfather.  He was pale, weak and had lost weight.  To this day, I am ashamed to admit that I was afraid of the man in the bed.  It was his voice, but not him.  I was afraid, and wouldn't go near him.  It hurts me and brings me to tears, that I was afraid, and fought hard not to approach the bed.  I remember the moment so clearly, and my body feels the struggle.  No one told me that Jake was dying, and for little Cara, that would be the last time I saw him alive.  The first death that I can recall.

  I have lost pets to the disease.  The hardest was Misha, my pound puppy.  The scared little puppy that we rescued, along with her sister, Charlie, to be the first pets Mike and I owned as a married couple.

  Shortly after Misha, my own mom lost her battle to Renal Cell Carcinoma.  My mom and I were estranged at the time of her death in November 2002.  After years of emotional games, I had to break the ties for the security of myself and my children.  My mom's last words as she lied dying in a hospital bed in Hawaii, were, "I don't want to talk to her, Oh, I love you".  My mom was afraid of the Cancer Treatments, and when she was diagnosed in October 2001, she chose to forego treatment and live out her days.

  My dad is battling Lung Cancer. Diagnosed in 1999, the joke is, he's just too stubborn to die.  It's flared up, it's disappeared, it's appeared again.  After 16 years, it's pretty amazing that he's kicking Cancer's ass, without a hint of Chemo (he had a lobectomy in 1999).  He's 83, and to be honest, who knows what will take him.  He's too feisty to go down easily.

   There's been numerous friends and acquaintances.  It breaks my heart to hear about children with cancer.  By pure circumstance I got acquainted to a local young man named Wyatt Klute.  Like my son, he's 6 feet tall, plays lacrosse and is a high school freshman.  All summer long I read on his Caring Bridge page about his treatments out of state.  My heart ached for his mom, Beth, and despite not being religious, I prayed for them all the time.  Positive news on this one, Wyatt show No Evidence of Disease (NED).  I finally got to meet Beth and spend some time with her at the Children's Cancer Research Fundraiser at the Mall of America. I'm excited because, right now, the plan is for me to go to a Swarm game to watch Wyatt drop the ceremonial face off.

   Wow, long post..  Sorry to take up so much of your time.  There is so much I still want to say.  But for the moment, I'm emotionally drained.  While writing this, I've cried, I've re-lived moments that were tucked away, I felt pain that I know years will never remove.