The Uncertainty of Cancer

Everyone knows she will die.  I don't know at what age we realize that. What mental capacity is needed to grasp the concept? Most of us, all of us probably, have trouble actually believing there will be a time when we no longer exist in our current state.

We know this intellectually, though. Just as we know the earth is constantly spinning at about 1000 miles per hour, that the sun will always rise in the east, that the Oxford comma is absolutely needed in some sentences - but for the average person, the knowledge of our mortality is safely tucked away in the back of our brains, only pulled out at the death notice of a close friend or family member, or more viciously hauled into the front of our consciousness at a funeral. Visiting a graveyard later reminds us that our bodies will at some point fail us.

For a person with a severe health diagnosis, whether it be a recurring type of  cancer or something else insidious, the specter of death is ever present, perched on a shoulder and pressing down, talons digging in sometimes to keep her aware that time is limited, lifespan is short, there may not be many tomorrows.

And yet - there might be. That's the quandary. Live as if death is sooner rather than later, or keep on the regular timetable and continue with everyday things?

I told my husband yesterday it would be easier for me to make decisions if the oncologists had given me a specific amount of time left - "We think you have 406 months, 10-18 months, 2 years" - that would encourage me to really gauge the importance of what I was doing and adjust my actions.

If I knew for sure I had a limited amount of time left, I'd apply for disability and spend the rest of my days organizing photo albums to leave for my family, sorting papers and clearing clutter so my husband wouldn't heave to deal with that, traveling to visit friends and family and saying goodbyes.

As it is, with an uncertain future - "43% live to 5 years, about half that to 7 years, but some beat the odds and live much longer" - I'm left with the fact of continuing to work full time to help pay the bills and keep our health insurance intact, while thinking I could be spending my last months at the job instead of doing what I would consider more important. The personal things that will outlive me and affect my family.

I'm trying to juggle it, keep the job while also working on the personal projects, but it's physically and emotionally draining. I feel guilty while goofing off watching tv or browsing the Internet or playing the addictive jigsaw puzzle games on my iPad. I feel I should be sorting the 16,000+ photos on my laptop, or the hundreds of printed ones in the garage, or sifting the piles of paperwork that need to be filed or shredded, or taking extra things to the thrift shop. I should be sending letters to loved ones.

This week I'm on vacation, on the opposite side of the country, at an isolated location with iffy phone and Internet service. I brought along a manuscript for a novel I've had in mind for several years, but somehow left the first third of it back home. So working on that is difficult. Just relaxing, walking to the shore and looking for sea glass, reading, watching "Game of Thrones" on a tiny portable DVD player - the downtime is needed, but still - if my remaining lifetime is short, I should be doing something productive. So my brain tells me, anyway,

I'm walking a tightrope, between carrying on as if life is just back to normal vs thinking of a shortened lifespans and urgency to get things done. I don't know how to balance that.