Everywhere you turn today, you hear about friends and family going through cancer treatment. Go to any major hospital or cancer center, and there will be people coming and going from treatments, whether it is radiation or chemotherapy. You might even recognize some of the people who are there. They may be a neighbor on the next street, a teacher at the elementary school your child attends, or the man you see at the gym. Some people will make it, some won’t. Some will have a few more years.
Over the course of my mother’s radiation and chemotherapy, I spent a lot of time escorting her to her treatments. She was a very social creature, and she often enjoyed the conversations with her fellow patients. Inevitably, we would learn about the lives of the people we met along the way, including a woman who had had cancer for decades, who learned how to read her own body, to recognize the signs that the cancer was coming back. Every time she would notice the little signs, she would come in for treatment. This was how she survived so many more years.
My mother gained precious time with her cancer treatment. She lived to see her grandsons grow up. She had quality of life. That is a very valuable commodity when you’re dealing with catastrophic illness.
But I think the greatest inspiration for me came after my mother’s death. Several months later, on a cruise to Bermuda, my father and I were seated at a table with several strangers. Inevitably, the conversation turned to our lives, and my father mentioned that I had taken care of my mother through her hospice experience. I talked about how difficult it had been for her to experience neuropathy, a side effect of chemotherapy. Tom, a retired banker from Minnesota, began to ask me questions. It turned out that he had had Stage 4 cancer for four years. He had already beaten his prognosis. Every night, before bed, he took his chemotherapy medicine. His wife, Carolyn, was obviously very supportive of her husband. They talked about their adventures in Bermuda, riding the Segways and exploring the streets. When I asked, Tom said he didn’t get tired from the activity, but the neuropathy was tough to take. Anyone who’s been on a heavy course of chemotherapy will probably relate to the negative side effects. As the night went on, we talked some more about our lives, and then went our separate ways. Tom had to get back to their cabin to take his medication, and Carolyn would be with him. They weren’t going to let cancer get in their way of enjoying life.
We had the pleasure of their company during another dinner on the ship. This time, we were treated to their love story. Carolyn had been injured in a car accident in Germany as a young woman, quite seriously. Tom was charged with matching her blood type in the hospital. Can you imagine seeing a young woman lying badly injured in a hospital bed and falling in love with her while she was unconscious? Can you imagine this same young woman, spending months healing after doctors put her mangled body back together again, heading to Minnesota for a job, making a decision not to drive again, only to be hit by a bus? Can you imagine her being told she would never walk again, only to yet again defy the odds? They hadn’t even kissed when he called her to tell her he loved her. They married, had children, and braved the cold, cruel Minnesota winters together. He loved his life as a banker, and he missed it, forced into retirement by his cancer. She was a college librarian, still going off to work at the job she loved. They were still partners through all those years. He stood by her after her accidents and she stood by him through his cancer. They found love through challenges, and they used that love to get them through some very tough times. Would they have picked a life together that was less stressful? No doubt. But what if it meant they would have missed all the love they shared? Some people find strength in adversity, maybe because they know some things in life are worth fighting for, whether it is surviving an unsurvivable car accident, learning to walk again after being hit by a bus, or fighting on when cancer thinks it has you in its grip. With love, there is inspiration. Who knows when the fat lady will sing and the opera will end? Where there is music, dance. Where there is laughter, share. Where there is love, be strong. Life may not turn out the way you want, or even the way you planned, but live your life like it’s still worth living, and you may find that you have more love than you ever imagined.