Quiet voices
Writing about cancer is harder than I thought. I thought I would be able to convey all of the pain and emotion that I experienced while writing about the factual and detailed accounts of my experiences, but I don’t feel that’s happening. I reread my posts and think to myself, well that was short and emotionless. I’ve noticed that even when talking to people about my experience I tend to keep it short. I guess I don’t want to sound like a whiner or like cancer makes me special. But for some reason when I see someone who I haven’t seen in awhile or at family events it comes up and I feel like people are probably thinking, “here we go”. Cancer doesn’t define me, but it’s definitely changed my life. Sometimes it takes an extreme event to make you look at your life from a different perspective.
Growing up I was really close to my grandparents and I do believe in spriritual connections to our ancestors. When my brother and I were young we lived with my grandparents for a few years after my parents divorce, We went to their house every day before and after school after my mom remarried. We have always been close. When my Grandad passed away I had a dream that the phone rang and I was told he died, a few minutes later I woke up to the phone ringing and it was my uncle, calling to tell my mom that my Grandad had passed. The following night my Grandad came to me in a dream and hugged me as I sobbed and told me it was going to be ok, I woke up with tears streaming down my face, and to this day I can’t tell this story without crying. Losing my granddad was really hard on everyone but most of all my Gram. After he passed she didn’t want to be in the house alone and she just kind of lost her gusto, My Gram passed a few years later, one of the things she always said was “getting old is not for the weak”. My Grandparents both passed away close to thanksgiving and the holidays have never been the same without them. Christmas time at their house was always magical, the house always smelled like steaming turkey and pumpkin pie and my gram would make krumkake. Krumkake is a rolled cookie that is made one at a time on a cookie iron and if you’ve ever made it, you know its truly a labor of love. The living room would be wall to wall presents for everyone and the excitement of looking at all those presents and trying to see which box was for who and wondering what was in all of those packages was so exciting. Wrapping paper would pile into garbage bags as all of the presents were unwrapped, bows and wrappeing paper balls would be thrown across the living room at eachother. It was the best part of my childhood and even as I got older the magic was always there. My grandparents house was always home and when my gram decided to sell it, it was devestating. I’ve driven by their house a few times since and the feelings of sadness and loss are overwhelming. All of this to say, we were really close.
When I started experiencing symptoms but didn’t want to go into the hospital I had a dream. In my dream my Gram came to me and said “soon you’re going to be here with us” and she hugged me and I sobbed hysterically and I remember the feeling of dread and being terrified. My Gram had never come to me in a dream and now here she is trying to make me face something that I didn’t want to see. I wanted to pretend it would go away if I drank kombucha and didn’t eat sugar. That dream was a lightening strike and I couldn’t look away. When I told my parents about the dream, I told them with tears streaming down my face, but I lied. I told them that my gram told me I needed to get help and that it was going to be ok, I lied to them because I didn’t want them to feel the dread and fear that I felt. But honestly, that dream really pushed me into accepting the fact that this was not going to just go away. I had to do something or I was going to die, There are so many things that happen in life that might seem insignificant or even impossible but these little moments can lead our steps in one direction or another and can truly change the trajectory of the path we’re on. After I started getting treatment I told my dad the truth about the dream, I don’t know if I’ve ever cried that hard in my life. In that moment there was just a quiet understanding between the two of us, he didn’t try to dismiss my experience he just listened and let me cry. I needed to be afraid, I needed that to push me into getting treatment.
This has been a random post and I have been trying to focus on the factual experiences of my journey with cancer but so much of battling cancer is emotional. So I’m going to try to let things out a little more, I need to be able to express the pain and emotions that were such a huge part of this journey.