A Deep Dark Secret

I'm having a few technical difficulties with NYC pics-but I
promise I will get back to our days there soon in blog posts.

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Today I am going to share with you one of my deepest,
darkest secrets.

Please be kind in your judgement of me when you read this.

(And again, remember it's mostly for me, and my family that
I write.)

I realized today what it is I'm the very most afraid of
on this journey.

My list of fears is long, so narrowing it down to 
a singular item is quite amazing really.

(And please know just because I list "my fears", doesn't 
negate that I have hope too.  I have hope in the process,
the journey, and the fight--but lets be realistic here too
folks...I *ALSO* have fears.  I think most people would
if they were in my shoes AND being honest.)

My list includes, but is not limited to, these things.

I am afraid of being alone, and lonely.

I like having companionship.  Even on the days when I 
don't like Kyle?  (and he doesn't like me sometimes too!)
I love having him around.  
He is, quite literally, my best friend.
I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone and lonely.
I didn't want to "grow old alone".
I wanted to "grow old together."

I am afraid of making the WRONG choice to support my family.

Work? School? Both? When? How?

People think it's all so cut and dry, looking in from the outside, but someday if you want to hear all the things we talk about on a DAILY BASIS?? 

Call me, and we can chat.

There are so many variable with terminal cancer, and my
responsibilities and what happens when? and if? and Kyle?
and kids? and how to pay? and cost v. outcome? and age?
and economy? and happiness? and time? and stopping and starting
when Kyle gets too sick to be alone, all day everyday.
and on and on and on.

Believe me when I say, "IT'S NOT SO CUT AND DRY ON THE INSIDE!"

I am afraid of doing things I haven't done in a very long
time, work & school.

I have done the "mom" thing for so long, what if I 
don't remember how to do the other stuff? I'm not 24 anymore.

I'm afraid of facing all that Kyle will go through when it
goes from now (good) to then (bad).

I'm afraid that I won't have the courage to face how bad it
can get.

Or will get.

The social worker at Huntsman reminded me on Friday,
"It won't always be this good, you need to prepare for that."

(yes, i'm trying) 
(how does one do that anyway?)
(seriously? how?)

Do you read depressing books about cancer? and dying?
Do you watch some Netflix movies where people die? 
HOW do you prepare for the worst thing ever in your life?

I remember watching my mom take care of my dying dad two
years ago.

And the EXACT words I said to her were, "Oh mom!  I could
NEVER do this!  I don't do stuff like this!"

Sigh.  From now on I will keep my mouth shut!

I'm afraid we won't have enough money for all that 
lies ahead.

ALL. that lies ahead.

Sickness. Disability. Hospital stays. No work.
No money coming in.  

Cancer is a rich mans disease.
I've said it before and I'll say it again.
Cancer is a rich mans disease.

If you're rich and you have cancer?  Or have had 
cancer? I envy you that in your journey you've had ONE
LESS THING to worry about.  

One.less.thing.  

Oh, you've still had PLENTY of worries, I know, just not that
worry added on top of ALL the other ones.

Shelley, our P.A. up at Huntsman heartily agreed with
us last week.  She said that many times, Doctor appointments
up there are people trying to work on ALL these issues (money)
in addition to, fighting for their lives.  So many issues,
she said, so many issues.  Not enough money. Not ever enough
for "regular folks".  She said it's overwhelming and sad.

And we are not rich men.  Not by a long shot.

It's always looming, hanging over my head.
What if?  What if?  What if we don't?  What if?

I'm afraid for my children and their future without a dad.

I'm afraid for all the scars that a parent dying, leaves.

What if they, my four beautiful children, somehow someway
don't survive this?  What roads will they travel down
in their heartache and loss and anger and grief.  I cannot
bear to watch anyone else suffer.
And yet, I may have to.  That is a hard cold reality.

I've heard so many stories of heartache for the kids
in this kind of loss.
So many stories. 

I'm afraid of so very very very many justified things.

I'm afraid I will loose myself, and not find a way back,
though all the pain.

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Today a sweet older "widow" neighbor dropped off a bag of
homemade goodies.

I said, "Oh thank you!  It gives me hope to think about
you and know you CAN make it out the other side of all
of this ALIVE.  Sometimes I wonder how I WILL make it
through all of this without dying."

She looked at me right in the eye and said, "Dorien,
YOU WILL die for a little while after all of this.  
You just will."

And I think to myself....great.

In a "that's not REALLY so great" kind of way.

And inside I crumble just a little because I already 
KNEW what she was telling me.

I already knew.

And THAT is what I'm the very most afraid of.

Dying.

Not literally of course.  Don't be silly.

But I have passed through the valley of the 
shadow of death before.

We had a stillborn baby.  Our first child.

I remember the pain, the grief, the heartache and
the anguish.

I remember also WHO it was that held me up during 
those dark dark days.

Kyle.

I don't know how I will do it when we get to that point.
(alone)

I don't know how I will continue on when that time comes.
(alone)

I don't know how I will come back from that figurative
death, one that I have passed through before.
(alone)

I remember.

And I admit it. 

I am afraid to go where I have once stepped.

It is a lonely place that no outsider can reach.

And the only way out?

Is through.

That is,

My deepest darkest secret.

I.Am.Afraid.

It, the fear, doesn't rule me every hour of every day.

Mostly it claims me at night.
When I should be sleeping and cannot.

It sneaks up on me and taps me on the shoulder
every now and again and reminds me that it's waiting
patiently for me.

I.Am.Afraid.

(And not one of these things has been said to ask for pity.
That is NOT the case at all.  I am only being real.  Really
real.  Remember, it's how I do this.  Really really real. So
please don't think I'm asking for pity.  I'm not. I am 
just being honest.  As honest as I know how.  Which is 
USUALLY too honest. I've found that lots of people don't like
honesty in this.  They prefer to read blogs, and stories, with    "it will all be good" and "faith in Jesus will save me"
and "oh so happy, it will be fine" kind of stories.  

But terminal cancer has a dark side which I embrace.  

If I did not embrace it, I would be lying to myself, and my husband, and my children.)

I prefer to face it, whatever it is, head on by NOT burying
my head in the sand.

And again, ACKNOWLEDGING these things is in NO WAY saying I
don't have hope.  I have every hope that Kyle will fight this
cancer for as long as his body is able and willing.
By getting the best medical care WE can afford.  And by doing
everything within our means to fight.  And by drawing on prayers
and strength and love and hope from those around us that
hold our hands and carry us along when days are hard.

We will not quit.

We will not give up.

But I WILL admit...

...I am afraid 

...in this journey.

And that is what I've got for today.