There is some freedom for me in knowing there isn’t a cure for what ails me. I may not know the way my cancer path will meander. I may not know how long my path my stretch, though I do know it will be shorter than I’d like. I do know where it will end – not with a cure, but with death.
I know that, to some, this may sound fatalistic, or that I’ve given up. But I haven’t. (Though I think I deserve the right to be fatalistic now and then.) I simply want to focus on living and making it the best life I can.
I feel I have a bit of freedom in that I don’t have to waste my time and energy hoping for a cure, for my salvation, as it were. I don’t have to go to battle to try to save my life, trying desperately to change the path I’m on, guessing which treatment might keep me from dying.
Instead, I get to make choices about how to live my days. I get to think about the things that are truly important to me. I have the chance to examine my life. I have the chance to examine my death. I have the chance to come to terms with a shortened life span, with death that will be sooner, rather than later.
I want to share all of this with you. I want you to be with me on my journey through cancer, as you’ve been with me through other journeys – painful, happy, joyful, scary. I want you to understand my journey, so listen. I want to understand your journey, so don’t be afraid to talk.
Please don’t be upset if I choose to find ways to accept my path rather than fight against it. I want it to be as joyful as possible, and that requires, at least for me, a certain sense of peace. I haven’t attained that peace yet, but that is my goal.
That, and sharing good times and laughter and tears with you.