Poker face

Hi friends. I'll occasionally pull something from the archives if I think it is particularly useful to re-share, and this one fits into that category quite well. I wrote this piece nearly a year ago, on the 8th anniversary of finding out that I had cancer, and just this past weekend I shared it with another survivor of our rare form of Cutaneous T-Cell Lymphoma. You see, I belong to several Facebook groups for people battling our disease, and through my time there, I've developed some strong and valuable connections. One of these friends is suffering terribly with her symptoms right now and she's downright terrified for her future. She admitted that she is mired down in a whole lot of anger and resentment over her situation and feeling quite hopeless. And I'd be lying if I said I've never been there myself. But I'm also fortunate enough to say that I've found my way out of those dark places and she will, too. In my experience, mindset is a large part of conquering any battle, health-related or otherwise, and if I 'fix' my mind, the rest feels a bit easier to face as well. So here's what I shared with her, and I want to share it with you all, as well. Your battles are nothing when you consider the power you hold within your strong and mighty soul. I promise.

‘You don’t have a right to the cards you believe you should have been dealt. You have an obligation to play the hell out of the ones you’re holding.’ - Cheryl Strayed

I read the book ‘Wild’ not long after my cancer diagnosis. It was incredibly cathartic for me. So much so that I have purposely not watched the movie adaptation for fear of ruining the book. And I love Reese Witherspoon, so that tells you something. There were quite a few messages that resonated, but the above quote became a mainstay for me. An idea that I pinned all my hopes and dreams and fears and realities about my cancer on. So today, on my 8th cancerversary (it’s a word if I say it is), I want to share a little bit about that with you.

A few years ago, a close friend asked me a tough question. We were sitting poolside on a cruise ship, with fruity drinks in hand in the middle of the ocean. It was a funny backdrop for such a serious conversation, but you can’t always plan these things. He asked me how it felt to know that cancer could (and maybe will) kill me. And without really giving me a chance to answer, he preceded to tell me how it made him feel. It made him feel worried about losing me, afraid for what might lie ahead, and guilty for the ‘good health’ he currently had. ‘Whoa’, I thought. That was a lot of heavy baggage to lay on me, especially when all those points remained unknown to me, too. So I settled on this response: I told him that none of us get to choose what hand we’re dealt in life. No one knows where their ending will be or how it will manifest itself, for that matter. And if I were to live a life mired by fear and resentment, I’d be missing out on all the unexpected surprise cards that the dealer hands me. I’d have missed out on a second child. I’d have turned my back on travel and new friendships and personal growth. I’d have deprived myself of all the love and support I’ve been blessed to feel on my cancer journey and in my life in general. And I’d be doing a great injustice to those who fought and lost their cancer battles before me.

My cancer is complicated. It will be with me for life, as no one knows why the T-cells in my skin become cancerous. The best we can do is try to slow it down, but people with my disease die from it. I see that all too often in the support groups and message boards I belong to. I watch people fight for their lives as their cancer spreads to their blood, bone marrow, brains and other organs. And I hold my breath and pray it doesn’t happen to me, which feels incredibly selfish while I’m simultaneously praying for them. It’s not fair and one could argue that we have been dealt a bad hand. That life is out to get us. That the House is going to win no matter what. But you know what? I’ve never seen any of these people go down without a fight. They play every last card that they’ve got, no matter how bad the cards seem.

And I try to do that, too. These are my cards, for better or for worse, and even on days when I feel like ‘folding’ I know that I can’t. I produce my trump card, I cross my fingers and I hedge my bets in any way I can. Sometimes that winning card comes in the form of a new treatment, like the life-changing radiation I underwent last year, and sometimes the card hides and makes me feel like I’m playing a game of ‘52 Pickup’ just to find it. That usually happens when I learn that someone has died from our cancer. It crushes me for a little bit. It strikes renewed fear in me that I could be next. I scramble to find my hope again. And then I remember that it’s not all bad. There’s an Ace in there somewhere and I just have to sort through the rest of the cards to get to it. And by the grace of God, I’ve had a damn good track record of finding it so far. I’m healthy. I don’t have active cancer on my skin or in my body right now and, by all accounts, my blood is clean. My prize is that as of today, I’ve celebrated 8 years of LIVING with the knowledge that I have cancer. The House hasn’t won yet, so I carry my cards with me every day and I play the hell out of them because they’re the only ones I’ve got. I maintain my poker face, even when I don’t want to, and I’ll be damned if I fold before my time. There’s far too much of this game left for me to play.

So Aces high, y’all, and let’s celebrate this gift of life that we’ve all been fortunate enough to be dealt. No one knows what the future holds, but the here and now sure is sweet.