Cancer Man Part I

Some of the hardest moments during this journey is dealing with my family. The burden of being a family man of two young kids while battling cancer can be overwhelming at times. And not just due to the side effects, but to the daily stress of having to satisfy their needs while I try to meet my own. Also, having my wife stuck in the middle of this whole thing adds to the grind. I feel an unending sense of escape. The desire to leave my home so that I can meet my needs as they come. To go out and heal, or die, on my own.



But I stay. Perpetually building my endurance in tolerating the ever increasing struggles that comes with family life. The brutal grind that defines every American male seeking the American dream. Shit, my life-long dreams seem to not matter when compared to the ultimate goal of surviving this disease. We are told that cancer is a major pain in the ass, but it's not until we personally undergo it that we really know where the pressure points are.



It is a general boiler plate experience when dealing with chemo and radiation. All of the side effects that come associated with them is just a normal physiological response of your body, so you just deal with it. But when it comes to the mindset: that deep-down bedrock you eventually reach when you undergo cancer can thin out your layers of self-identity. And that in itself is scary as you peek behind the curtain to see what is revealed. A black hole of emptiness as you realize that much of your life was lived behind masks. Like Frankenstein's monster, much of my psyche was made up of different identities that I used to hide my true self. Or perhaps this is my true self: a chameleon. A self preserving creature that blends into its surroundings, adapting as it moves from one environment to another. Or maybe I am the cancer. Ultimately evolving into the mutation that will eradicate these masks by condensing them into the single, burnt-out version that I am.



Fuck, that sounds depressing...

A dear friend of mine asked me last week what makes me happy. I couldn't answer her.

tbc

Donuts with Sprinkles

Growing up Catholic meant growing up with guilt. A person would be born still bearing the "original sin" and carry the burden of unworthiness. At least that's how it was for me. I often felt that my existence was only validated when I would sacrifice my desires for the wellness of others. That I should focus on the well-being of my neighbor before my own. Being the perpetual good-guy in spite of the shit that would be thrown my way. In essence, turning the other cheek.

Now, I'm not attempting to get a rise out of those who are religious. After all, I studied some Theology at age 19 when I enrolled in the Seminary. But, as a kid attending St. Mary's elementary this message had a huge impact on my life. The guilt that was bestowed upon me by my moral educators had a profound effect on how I would approach life as I developed into a Man.

A simple example of this was a moment during Junior High with a group of friends. One of them had offered a choice of pastries he had just purchased. It was three donuts: one plain, one glazed, and one with sprinkles. As I was reaching for my favorite multi-colored pastry the pangs of self-guilt began to ring throughout my mind. My thought was that I was unworthy of having my desired choice and that my other friends were more deserving of this deliciousness. I opted to grab the plain donut, eating it in silent misery as I saw my friends enjoy the others.

Yes, it seems pretty lame but this sensibility echoed throughout much of my young life into adulthood. I would voluntarily step back and allow others to reap my desired rewards, regardless of whether they would reciprocate or not. A deep feeling of resentment  began to grow within me, causing a bitterness that lead to a bad self-image. This is important to take note of since it's this awareness that I initially faced Cancer with.



When I was first diagnosed there were the immediate questions of "why me", followed by questions of "why not me". The overwhelming sense of deserving the cancer permeated my thoughts. That this was my punishment for not following thru with my Catholic upbringing in sacrificing for others. This really sucked as I felt beaten before I even gave myself the chance to fight for my life.
 

Realizing that I did not want to put my family & friends thru grief I had opted on leaving LA and hospice myself in a discreet location where no one can see me wither and die. But, as time continued to unfold I began to dig deep into the cause of these feelings of unworthiness. Analyzing all the moments of my life where I would give up my feelings in "service to others":

-Giving up the little league team since I was a horrible player.
-Taking the blame for breaking a window at school.
-Making up bad-deeds so that I had something to confess at Mass.
-The donut incident.
-Doing someone else's art homework.
-Taking the blame for the stolen porno tape shown during a Xmas party.
-Being Duckie.
-Giving up a good lead for the job I wanted.
-Helping a friend get the girl I liked.



It was quite an interesting road to relive and identify all the times that felt I cheated myself. But more importantly, realizing that the actions I committed during these events were more than just doctrine instilled by clerics. They came as heartfelt gestures and my natural sense of servitude towards others. And it was nice to finally come to terms with being what I've always been: a good-guy.


The scales of guilt peeled off soon after that and I gave myself permission to heal. To accept the help of my friends when offered. To accept the love of my family. To be the Hero to my daughters. And that, in itself, is accepting that Sprinkled donut and eating it with a child-like delight.

Luv

Don't just survive...

Whether the Storm

A ship is safe in a harbor, but that is not what ships are built for.
-John A. Shedd

SOAR

You are meant to go beyond your comfort zone. SOAR!!!