I am sick of cancer. I am so damned sick of cancer I want to kick it in the face and punch it in the throat and toss it to the ground and stomp it to death once and for all. I hate it. I hate that it keeps sticking its hateful pointless sharp nose into the lives of people I love. It’s a brute of a sickness, an evil and unwelcome liar. It is a killer tarted up and whorish. There’s hope and optimism… bam. There’s confidence and faith and staying strong… smash. And there’s fear and anxiety and hopelessness and grief… yes, there are all of those things.
I don’t have cancer (though who the hell knows, everybody will sooner or later right?). People I have loved have battled cancer… and yes,in my mind it’s always a foe, an enemy. Some have beaten it, for now at least. Some haven’t. Some people I care about have just had it come back and kick them in the ass again. Some for a second time, a third time…
Why? How? What is in our world, this world, this water, this food, this air… these walls, this furniture, this carpet, this computer screen or phone that is KILLING US? What are we ingesting, digesting, resting on that is invading our bodies and turning our own cells against us?
I want this to stop. I don’t want it to catch anyone else that I love. I don’t. I’m tired of crying.
I have developed a serious case of VPIS. This happens to me about this time of year every couple of years, and it has a significant impact on my ability to perform my normal day to day activities. I am often dizzy, heart racing, flushed, distracted and prone to long periods of time I fully cannot account for.
VPIS, or Vacation Planning Intoxication Syndrome is pretty much my favourite malady. Around Christmas I begin considering options, tossing out destination ideas to my family and seeing what bounces back. This year I started with Istanbul…”Hey!!! Let’s go to TURKEY!!!!!” They looked at me like I was mad. I went on about the history, the friendliness of the people, the complete “other-ness” of the experience, etc. etc. The girls wanted to know if they would be allowed to wear shorts or if they’d get arrested for doing so. Hmmmm. I’m feeling a bit dizzy now….
Okay, how about a week in Paris, go through the Chunnel for a week in London then fly to Rome for a week in Italy?! Awesome, said the girls…eyes glazing over like Mom’s as they anticipated gorgeous Italian boys on vespas and the romantic possibilities of such a holiday (VPIS is contagious) Husband looks baleful and comments on the weather in March… not hot. Son says something like “I don’t speak French. Let’s go to Mexico”. I reminded him he doesn’t speak Spanish either. He says “but if I don’t know what to say at least I can go to the beach”. Valid point. So now I’m a bit woozy….
So it’s Mexico. I adore Mexico, have travelled there 5 times and am happy to return. The selection of a country however does not a vacation make. So…. where? At last we’ve made our decisions, planning to fly to Puerto Vallarta, stay in Bucerias, Yelapa and Sayulita. Lots of beach time, lots of family time and lots of relaxation. Flushed, heart beating out of my chest… sweaty palms… we’re GOING TO MEXICO!!!!!
And every day, I’m online researching. Researching condos, activities, restaurants, modes of transport, possible day trips etc. etc. etc. I can talk of little else. My husband, who never complains, concedes I am driving him the tiniest bit mad.
Fair enough. I will wade through the dizzying options myself, relish the flutter in my chest that comes so regularly when I consider the possibilities, imagine myself in the VERY SPOT that stunning photo was taken from, and remember the feel of the gorgeous Mexican sun on my winter weary face.
And the countdown begins in earnest… is it too soon to pack?!
My daughter, at 15 years old, has had 17 surgeries. That’s as of this morning….it surely won’t be the final tally. She is a beautiful and talented actress, a killer soccer player and an awesome volleyball player. She also has the shittiest luck medically. I won’t catalog her issues, but just know that she is ALWAYS the one in a million….the worst case scenario.
So I am watching her sleep off the anaesthetic now, face cold and pale. I realize we could be facing the impossible possibility of spending Christmas in hospital for the second year in a row. I wonder why karma has it in for my beautiful beautiful girl. I wonder if and where I will find the courage to tell her the truth about her medical future. I wonder, again and again if, somewhere along the way there was something I missed, something I could have done differently, something that would change where she is now.
When she wakes up I will have to find a path toward the truth, but for now I will watch her sleep and kiss her forehead as many times as I feel like it.