Is this my last birthday??

My 59th birthday is coming up.  I’m pretty sure I won’t see 60. I’m 10 mo into a 12 mo terminal cancer diagnosis. I chose not to treat the cancer but to live the remainder of my time with people that I love, and not with nurses and oncologists. It’s a strange place to be when you know you’re about to get really sick and do nothing about it.  Every time I feel something out of the ordinary or don’t feel well I have to coach myself with my mantra... “you made a choice now deal with it”. By choosing not to know or treat the cancer, it simplifies the process of dying. It’s very clean. I will get sicker and I will die. There’s no anticipation of a cure. 

I try to make friends with the cancer. I try to bargain with the cancer.  “If you grow somewhere that I can tolerate, I won’t try to stop you”. It found a home somewhere in my intestines . I call it my tumor baby. It’s like morning sickness when you’re pregnant, along with the fatigue and swelling. You just won’t have a joyous ending . I try to be forgiving with my prognosis. There are days when I am struck with intense fear and sadness. It’s that pit in your stomach—that fight or flight reaction that keeps mankind alive. That’s when its important to zoom out. Im a pro at obsessing. Great when you a triathlete and helpful to start a business, but obsessing about death it a waste of time that I don’t have. So I zoom out. I think of the thousands of people who died from the Coronavirus alone. I think of all the people fighting a war that they didn’t start and dying in a foreign land. Remembering that I am not alone in suffering grounds me.

 I gauge my health with triking. As long as I can still crawl up the hills in Mont Vernon I know I’ll be around for a bit longer.

These last months have been emotionally raw. Not just for me but for all of us. I am proud of my family.  We have always used humor to cope.  Several years ago, after the strokes we took a weekend and stayed at a B&B. Next to the inn was a funeral home . As we walked by I said “that’s where I should be staying “ John’s response was, “ you can’t, you’re mostly dead but not all the way dead” ( from the Billy Crystal in the Princess Bride) . 

We are honest and talk openly about life without me. I am better at accepting my death. I am craving candor and push on topics that normally I would avoid. I just don’t feel like I have time to waste. As you can imagine, it’s not always appreciated.

Make no mistake, there are days when I’m despondent. I’ve had a lot of training, with depression and know that I will crawl my way out of the hole again. I’ve learned that depression has many levels. The goal is to stop yourself before sinking to the bottom . When I let it go too far, I stop hearing people. We all have relationships that require a delicate balance. We avoid the sensitive topics to keep peace. I now seek honesty with myself and others. That comes at a price. The tears I shed stem from regrets and realizations. When you push the boundaries of comfort in conversation and remain open you will find clarity. The air will clear again.

 I’ve been very emotional about this birthday.  Logically I understand it’s just another day, but this one has so much weight attached to it. Of course, with the Coronavirus there will be no party. I have my amazing family to make the day special. I will lounge around in my sweats and comfy sweater and soon to be gray hair and drink good wine and eat yet another masterpiece from Genevive. I will be grateful that I didn’t contract the virus and die in a hospital .

Since I’m not able to celebrate, I want to hear from people. When my dad was dying from lung cancer I reached to as many of his friends and business associates and ask them to write about a shared moment with my dad. I still have all the letters... yes this was not a techno-savvy generation.  They still used a pen and paper. Generally, I’m not one to broadcast my special day, but this one may be my last, and  if I can’t have a party. I would love to hear from anyone and everyone. Help me celebrate before my tumor baby takes me out.