Robbed of Joy
I was diagnosed with T-cell lymphoma on my birthday in 2016, and I was told if my chemotherapy didn’t work, I had just weeks to live in 2017. Up until that point, I didn’t think I wasn’t going to beat it, even though by then I’d gone through 14 + rounds of different types and brutal chemotherapy. It seems stupid now, thinking back, but until the doctor uttered those words I hadn’t even done my will yet.
None of us were expecting it, and being honest I was in shock. I was 34 or 35, and this wasn’t how my story was meant to end. The doctor promised he would help as much as he could to transition me to palliative care and get the ball rolling. This bowled me over. I mean, one moment I’m preparing for another “ran some tests, here’s what we found, here’s what were going to do” doctor’s meeting, a meeting I have almost every day…the next I’m just…silent.
Anger was my first stage. I was bitter. “Why me? What did I ever do to deserve such a poor hand? Screw the world and its happy existence…” This quickly left. It was, honestly, one minute of pure “Why me?” After looking at everyone’s faces, however, this quickly left me. I simply watched everyone deal with the news around me. In the room was my favorite nurse, my mom, wife, and obviously the doctor.
I never saw my mom look so helpless. I could almost see the hope drain from her as she leaned into the wall, hoping for support. She was just told her baby was going to go and this time she couldn’t fix it. I could see the whirlwind inside her as she tried to not cry. The nurse who was there was only there to give me more chemotherapy. At this point in my care, I’d been in hospital for months.
I’d see her almost every day, and you bond. She didn’t take the news well (I heard later on). At the time, I was told she had a reaction to the chemotherapy she was administering. In reality, she broke down and had to leave work early. My darling wife, who I had put through so much, was clearly trying to hold it together…she was in the anger and bargaining stage, too.
This was the first time seeing my wife not taking “no” as an answer, and I didn’t have the energy or the motivation to calm her down. She was asking for second opinions, researching other hospitals, calling/emailing them, scanning reports, test results for her emails, etc. She just refused to accept it and went to work. I just sat there with what felt like billions of thoughts, watching it all go on around me.
When you’re told you’re going to die, eventually you get to acceptance. Once I accepted there was nothing more to do, all the little things in life that annoy, stress, or anger you go away. EVERYTHING is beautiful…and I noticed everything. My perspective had completely changed. My time was running out and I just wanted to be surrounded by love. That’s it.
My only regret was time. I didn’t do enough with it. I didn’t have more time to see my beautiful baby niece grow up. I wondered if she would take after her mother, my lovely sister, who never got to enjoy her pregnancy due to her brother getting cancer months before she was due to give birth. Why did I waste so much time being angry at my father?
We wasted so much time ignoring each other over petty family stuff. Why the heck didn’t I travel more? Why didn’t I take more photos of us when traveling? I had tons of travel pictures over the years, but hardly any of me and my wife or my family enjoying the holiday…just holiday-like pictures of museums, buildings, and food. Now I’m on heavy meds scrambling my brain for memories of my wife’s face when she saw the view from our hotel in Croatia.
Going through cancer robbed us of joy, and I just wanted to see the twinkle of happiness in the eyes of my loved ones one more time. Love and time, that’s it. When it boils down to it, that’s all that’s left. Love and time.
Story credit: Reddit / ea3y