An Awful Dose of Reality

I have a classmate from Kellogg who, shortly after me, was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. She collapsed from exhaustion one day and was rushed to the hospital. She was originally diagnosed with a viral infection, but when that didn't clear, her doctor conducted more tests. One test lead to another and she ultimately discovered that she had colon cancer that had already spread to her lungs. Rebecca is my age and has a young son Kyle's age. At the time of her diagnosis, she and her husband were happily making plans for getting pregnant again. Today, I received an email that included the following update from her husband:

Dear Friends,
It breaks my heart to write to tell you that Rebecca is gravely ill. It has become clear over the past couple of days that the last-ditch chemotherapy that she has been on is not working, so we made the decision today to shift the focus from aggressively fighting the cancer to making sure Rebecca is as comfortable as possible. I'll write again soon -- I fear too soon -- with an update. It pains me beyond words to warn you that it will be the worst possible news. Dan

I was paralyzed when I read the email -- I could not stop staring at my computer screen. When I could finally move again, I burst into tears. I cannot believe that -- but for a crazy twist of fate -- this is happening to Rebecca instead of me. I am obviously thrilled beyond belief that I am as healthy as I am today and that Pete never had to write the painful email that Rebecca's husband had to write, but my heart is breaking into a million pieces for Rebecca and her husband and, most of all, her child. This could have been me. This could have so easily been my life. This could have been my wonderful husband. This could have been my beautiful, beautiful children who love and need me beyond words and whose entire worlds are rocked when they have to spend even an afternoon away from me.

It's still so painful and horrifying for me to know that Rebecca is going through this because of the same dreadful disease that I had. How did I manage to climb to the top of my mountain? And, once I got there, how did I manage to get lucky enough to step back from the edge? I cannot make any sense of this in my mind.

There is part of me that is reluctant to even post this entry into my blog -- in fact, I posted the entry and then went back and re-opened it to add this very paragraph. I feel like acknowledging the fact that people can die from cancer is, in some way, equivalent to me aquiescing to cancer. I don't want to admit that it has this power; I don't want to give the Bitch any morsel of control or satisfaction. I want anyone who reads my blog who has been recently diagnosed with cancer to know that if you fight like hell, you can beat it. But the unfortunate reality is that some people are not able to beat it. In some cases, the Bitch wins. This is why so many people (like me!) are terrified to hear the diagnosis of "cancer." This is why I will forever cringe every time that I hear of someone who has been newly diagnosed. Not only is cancer evil, but it is also very arbitrary. Some people live and some don't. I think that the arbitrary-ness of the disease is just as awful since there is not one single cancer patient who knows at the beginning of their own personal journey whether or not they will be one of the lucky ones who is allowed to "step back from the edge" or not. And the uncertainty of it all is as overwhelming as the diagnosis.

My wish for Rebecca is the same wish that I had for Bonnie and that I have for anyone who is facing death: I hope and pray that Rebecca knows how much she is beloved on this Earth. She is truly beloved.