The Ass Cancer Chronicles

My life isn’t terrible, or unbearable since diagnosed- it’s just different.

Different in the ways that I see things, tolerate things, put stock into things. I’d say I’m a fair person- to judge only by the cards laid by others, but still finding reason in why they were dealt (so to speak).

Different in the way that I’ve lost weight, but that weight was the entire muscle mass of my body. Walking 4 blocks to the coffee shop in my neighborhood today about melted me.

Bluntly, I’m not angry that I have cancer. As a non-religious person with respect for those that claim a religion, I’m not upset. Who would I be upset with? There’s a losing battle in blaming cancer, I think.

This crazy journey has taught me so much. What I will and will not entertain in my life, and how I need to press forward. I mean, not exactly knowing the “how”, but that I will.

It’s made life a lot more cut and dry from the perspective of what my purpose is – for myself, my family, and my community. There are so many situations presented to me on a daily basis that I couldn’t care less about.

I don’t mean to be ugly, but faced with your own potential mortality, if not now but probably in 20 years from now, you give a lot less fucks about trivial arguments, period.

At the same time, I can’t blame anyone and I’m not angry for the way that people air their grievances, right? They don’t have cancer. I do, and it’s not something that I explain in great detail.

There are times, though, every once in a while, that I get to hang with my most favorite people on a porch, and be a “normal”. That’s what I miss so much.

Sitting and talking about life. The abrasiveness in the beauty; having businesses tank while watching our children have the time of their lives. Chatting about past lives intertwined with current happenings, and how things can be “fucked” but really everything’s okay due to the glimpses into our children’s lives (that they allow us to have every so often).

Back to the “not mad” part, though.

I’m not mad that I have cancer. Didn’t see that shit coming, but also – not mad. There’s no one to blame. There’s no alternate path in my life that I would have taken. There’s no beacon of “holy fuck – that’s it: that’s what did it!” that occurred to make this anyone’s, including my, fault. I have no one to blame. It just is what it is, y’all.

I’ve learned so many things, I don’t even know where to start.

The love of my community is overwhelming. I live in a small community of New Orleans, across the river from all of the bangin’ tourist activity. In Algiers Point, we look out for one another, stocking the Free Little Pantry, cleaning out fridges, watching children, you name it. This community shows up for each other and my illness was no exception. My family has received the most delicious meals, help, and support from people we barely knew. I’m very thankful and proud of the community we live in and will forever pay the thanks forward.

A very interesting perspective: The people that you thought were closest to you may or may not be able to be there for you. It’s not a reflection of you, it’s a reflection of them. There’s not much that I can do with that except for give people grace and their space. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed at times. Also, I can’t be mad about something I don’t fully understand, as in we don’t know what someone’s going through, EVER. and even if we did, comparing is never a good route to take. Being mad takes energy away from the little that I have, and through this situation I’ve learned that energy is most precious, and something I won’t dole out frivolously.

All of this to say – I long for the nights when the sun sets and I’m surrounded by good family and friends constantly. Joking, laughing, crying, and enjoying every moment that we’re together because we choose those that we’re surrounded by in that moment. Hearing stories, old & new, and not talking about what the next couple of months lie in store for me. Because fuck if I know, and good lord does it feel good to not care.

All I know is that I have good chances of not having to continue treatment after this Tuesday. That I get to ring a bell saying that I’m done with this nightmare. That I’ll have another scan 8 weeks from then that will hopefully show that I did the damn thing and this was just a blip on the map of my life. Because Jesus Christ, a blip is being generous.

I just turned 40. My youngest is about to be 2 in February. And Dr we have carnival upon us, y’all.

So until next time,

Kirsten.