They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger... unless it's cancer
treatment, which just makes you weaker.
When people hear my story, they often tell me that I am strong or that they
would never be strong enough to live my life. I don't feel strong. I don't
think I was any stronger than anyone else was or would have been. You just keep
waking up because you don't stay asleep. That doesn't mean you are
strong. Maybe I appeared strong because it seemed from the outside like
my primary problem-solving techninques were effective. In reality, the phases
of development of crisis took years to get to a breaking point.
Here's what happened (in a nutshell):
Phase I: It was September. My husband of 7 years was diagnosed with
Acute Myeloid Leukemia. He went through 2 rounds of chemo, total body
irradiation and a bone marrow transplant. The transplant engrafted but within a
few months, he had blasts in his blood again, meaning the cancer had
overwhelmed the transplant. Mike turned 30. We celebrated our 8th wedding
anniversary and he was gone by the end of July, before Wade turned 2. I
was 26, a widow and single mom of 2 living sons (we lost our first son in a car
crash when he was 3 months old).
Still Phase I: I got a cute haircut and a pretty dress(not black) for the
funeral. I smiled a lot and hugged everyone. I might have even cried a little,
but who had time for that? I had things to do. People to meet, volunteering to
sign up for. I didn't want to be alone forever. I started dating within a
month. No more crying. For ten years. Maybe this looked like strength to
people? Got married again. had a couple more kids.
Phase II: I think things had been dark for a while but i didn't really
notice it because I was still in my previous problem-solving state. I was able
to recognize the disabling depression with the help of my sisters and some
close friends.
Phase III: I know "crisis" is supposed to be "acute" as
in short-lived, but I disagree. The coping mechanisms we employ and our
unintentional craziness have long-lasting effects on our lives and the lives of
those around us. The ripple is unending and can be devastating. It has taken me
the last 16 years to dig out of the hole and sometimes I still feel like I am
grasping for the edges and drowning just a little. I have had to use all
available resources: friends, sisters, parents, doctors, therapists, books,
pets, God. Yes, I finally started to talking to God again. In 1998, I told him
that it was ok to take Mike. I knew--for sure--that was the right thing. I was
happy that Mike wouldn't suffer any more. That feeling lasted like 20 minutes.
And then I was piiiiisssed. Anyway, as part of phase III, I finally began to
feel God's love for me again. And I guess I loved him back. And he has become a
strength and a resource to me. I'm not the strong one, here.
Phase IV: Maybe all that time I was in phase iv. There were moments of
panic, but I held it together on the outside enough that no one ever
hospitalized me.
My big brother is a retired Army Veteran. He gets annoyed and upset whenever
someone calls him a hero. "I was just doing my job. That I got paid to do.
I got up and I did my job, same as you." So maybe he's not strong. Maybe
he's not a hero. Or maybe all of us who open our eyes the next morning are
strong. Maybe we's all heroes.
Thank you.
