The Only Thing We Have to Fear Is…
**Warning! The following blog deals with my emotional state and inner thoughts and is not quite as light-hearted as my other ones have been. If that doesn’t interest you, I understand. But please consider yourselves warned**
So I have a bit of a lull between procedures, which is nice to not have to worry about some runaround for a few days. However, the lull also causes me to slip into my own thoughts, and that can be a dangerous thing.
First of all, I start to consider what my next procedure is and that is: injecting the gold marker balls into my prostate and applying the SpaceOAR gel around it to protect my rectal wall and bladder from radiation burns. That is one of the biggest reasons I chose this therapy. Not only does it have the lowest risk for secondary issues like ED and urinary problems, it also has a very similar success rate to the surgery itself. I mean, less pee pee and boner issues afterwards and still being able to cure me, I’m all in.
But the issue with this next procedure became that, since we changed locations, I would no longer be receiving a general anesthetic. I will endure this procedure with only Pronax gas. I honestly don’t recall having a procedure involving this gas before. But if it’s the same thing the dentist uses, then my anxiety will go through the roof because the one time I did get gas at the dentist, it honestly didn’t do a damn thing. So, my fear is that I will feel the needle as it slices through my taint to lodge the marker balls, followed by Lord only knows how many more injections to set the SpaceOAR gel. So I’ll spend the next few days with my thoughts full of fear.
Fear. One of many emotions that go through my head. As you can tell from my writings, I usually take a light-hearted approach to all that’s going on outside my head. But not always on the inside. I pretend to be brave even, though the fear of procedures and stress of constant phones calls and bills from insurance, doctors and facilities (sometimes 6 to 7 a day) can start to overwhelm me. I try to keep these things to myself because my family and friends have enough going on in their lives and they don’t need me whining about every step in the process. Everyone who has been praying for me and/or reading my blog have been paramount in keeping my emotions in check, and I appreciate everyone and everything and have no wish to burden you more.
My family and friendamily, especially my wife, have had the biggest burden to carry. They’re stuck being with me most of the time. They hear all of my stories and a lot of my complaints and fears (but not all of them). Like I said, I don’t want to overwhelm them, either. And seeing some family recently go through the arduous job of caring for a sick loved one, I really understand how big a burden that can be. No matter how much you love them, it’s still a lot for those around you to always be there for you emotionally, mentally and physically.
I recently exchanged texts with a good friend who is going through a cancer battle of her own. We discussed doctors and treatments and how we are both doing through it all. And one comment I made to her was that I don’t want to go through this and end up looking like a big baby to Vicki. Well I forgot I texted that and let Vicki read the texts so she could get the medical updates on our friend.
When she finished she just looked at me and said, “You know I always have your back. I don’t call you a big baby.”
And I told her that she misunderstood my sentiment. I told her that I didn’t think she called me a baby, at least I hoped not. What I said was that I couldn’t have her thinking I’m being some kind of big wimp as I go through this. After all, I’m a man and I have to act like a man. I don’t know if it’s just how my generation was raised or some kind of psychological trauma from getting bullied when I was young, but here we are.
Those years actually taught me how to control my emotions. When I was living through those hellish days of constantly getting picked on way back in my early teens, if I showed any emotion, especially tears, I would get it even worse. So, the only resolution I could think of to lessen the attacks was to stop. The other students, coaches, teachers and even other kid’s parents who all seemed to enjoy heaping verbal and sometimes physical abuse on me often had one thing in common- constantly reminding me that I was a pussy and I cried too much.
Why do you cry so much, Reimert? You cry all the time, like a little baby. You need to stop crying! You need to stop being like this and stop crying! STOP FUCKING CRYING!! And so, I did. When I hit about 16 years old, I had finally learned ways to better control my emotions, especially crying, and keep them hidden. It’s not that I didn’t have them, I was just able to hide them. And I refuse to cry, even to this day.
Now don’t get me wrong. I am not saying I NEVER cry. I just refuse to cry often (honestly about once every 7 to 10 years) and will do anything I need to do to rid myself of that emotion if I feel it sneaking into my heart. And NEVER cry in front of others. To do so would be emotionally traumatic to me (yes, I still get very angry at myself for crying, which heightens the emotion even more and I hate that too!) and so when I do cry, as infrequently as that is, I do it when no one else is around. I can’t let anyone think I’m a pussy. It’s just something I learned when having to endure those years.
Now, before you lecture me and tell me it’s ok for people to cry, I know it is. Please don’t comment to me after this that “it’s okay to cry.” I would never try to stop anyone else from releasing those emotions. I have zero disrespect at all when I see other people cry. In fact, I’m actually jealous. I’ve allowed my own, self-fabricated mental block to stop me from being able to engage in a simple human emotion, and I only have myself to blame. All this is being said solely to let you understand my own struggle with emotion. Even writing it out like this has been extremely hard for me. But it is how I got emotionally where I am today.
But I think that’s enough about that. It’s a swell summary of what affects my feelings on the things occurring in my world today and it also provides some unwanted insight for all of you into how my little brain works regarding emotion. Or maybe how it doesn’t work. Either way, there it is.
And emotions do become a big part of this, whether you want them to or not. Not just fear (fear of pain, fear of the unknown, fear of something getting worse, fear of going broke), but also anger, sorrow, depression, joy and relief. At some point prior to the MRI, I realized I was kind allowing all this to make me a real asshole to the one person who does always have my back: my wife. I hate to admit that, but I am happy I realized it and did something about it.
The only thing I remember saying to her about it at the time was, “Sorry I’ve been so angry lately. My cancer could be far worse, so I’m lucky I’ll be able to beat it. But I am sorry I’ve been a jerk, and I’ll try not to be so angry anymore.”
And I really meant that. But all she said to me was, “It’s ok to be angry about this sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
And you really do need to let the emotions out somehow. But it is wrong for me to take my anger out on the ones I love and who support me. So I had a little mental discussion with myself and I built another little mental wall. One to keep any anger isolated and, if released, to turn it into a self-reflection that says something more positive like…well, it could always be worse. And I’m glad it isn’t.
And on another note, it’s okay if I say that to myself. But now that I said it, I would also like to caution anyone reading this to never say that to someone who is going through a physical or emotional battle like this. Minimizing someone else’s struggle by comparing it to someone who has it worse doesn’t help one bit. I have had those words said to me and all it makes me want to do it punch them in the face. It makes the speaker seem uncaring, in my opinion. It feels like instead of focusing on my problem and wanting to help me with it, they flippantly make that remark as if I shouldn’t be concerned about my issue because, hey, other people have it worse!
Well, no shit. Okay, you’re right. Fuck my concern about cancer any way. There are people out there with far worse cancers than me who might not even live through it. So who was I to complain? Trust me, the realization that other people’s battle with cancer is far harder than mine is not lost on me. My heart goes out to those folks when I see them at one of my visits. Especially when it’s a child.
But where does this comparison end? There will ALWAYS be someone worse off in this life comparison. It would be a nearly endless. For example, you say “well, it could be worse, you could be broke.” And if you’re broke, “well, it could be worse, you could be homeless.” And then “Well, you’re homeless but it could be worse, you could be sick,” and blah, blah, blah until you get to the ultimate comparison that would be “well, it could be worse, you could be dead.” Because as far as the finality of life goes, that really is the ultimate comparison for who has it worse. Or maybe I’m just being selfish in regards to this. I don’t know. But it is how I feel, so I’m speaking my mind. Maybe it warrants a discission with your loved ones and my feelings on it are isolated and wrong. I may never know.
As far as seeing an adult or a child who look like they might be enduring chemotherapy or some other body-destroying therapy that has ravaged them in an attempt to kill their cancer, it breaks my heart every time. And I see them in the lobbies of the hospitals and cancer centers every time I go. I even wish I could sometimes trade places with the kids. I turned 58 today and I’ve had a good life. Let me swap cancers so this child can have one too. But it doesn’t work that way. All I can do is pray for these other adults and children and all their loved ones. And this frustration at lacking any greater ability to help leads to even more sorrow and even guilt for me. I wish I could do so much more to help people. Cancer sucks.
But in the meanwhile, I have turned my anger around to be more caring and supportive of my wife. She has made a lot of sacrifices for me so far and is always a willing chauffeur and sometimes my nurse (although she would not help me with my enema. Hmm). And I knew I needed to make sure she feels how grateful I am for that. I hope I can continue to do that. I don’t want to get on the other side of this and look back at it and think…’man, I was jerk!’
Which brings me to my final “fear” for today, so rejoice as today’s blog is nearing its end for those of you who stuck with it. And that fear is, having seen folks go through far worse battles with cancer than me and find the resolve to somehow kick its ass and knowing mine was easier, should I “ring the bell?”
If you know anyone who has beaten cancer or even just seen a video or news article about it, almost every cancer center in the U.S. has a bell. The patient, and sometimes the family, gets to ring the bell on the occasion of receiving their last treatment and, hopefully, beating cancer. The proton center also has a bell. Do I really deserve to ring it?
I had an amazing friend named Shellie. She had a sudden onset of a crazy-aggressive cancer that, in three months, went from not being there to being everywhere. They tried chemotherapy and even a surgery, but that was when they saw the cancer everywhere and knew there wasn’t anything that could be done any more. We spent as much time as we could with her over the next 9 months. We did what we could to bring her some joy and love in the time she had left.
As so many of us know, having had to sit and watch someone die from cancer, it was incredibly hard to do. We prayed and consoled and loved as much as we could right up to the end. I saw her fight. I saw her make every effort to live as long as she could. She did it for her kids and her boyfriend, Paul (another of my best friends), but her cancer was just too much. And 9 months later she passed away. But I will always respect her fight and her will to live as long as she could.
Mine is nothing like hers. Or anyone else who has it worse than me, for that matter. So seeing these kids and adults as much as I do now who have so much tougher cancer fights than me, it makes me question myself- do I really deserve to ring a bell?
And my eventual answer is…yes. Of course I do. No matter what your battle with cancer is, once you kick its ass, you deserve to ring the bell. And not just for yourself. You ring the bell for your family and friends. For those who are there for you, who pray for you or even who just read your silly blog. You ring the shit out of that bell because beating cancer is beating cancer.
I have a tumor in me. One that could kill me if it spreads. So I’m going to knock it right out of me and then I’m going to ring that damn bell. I’m going to ring the shit out of it like a lunatic on the back of a firetruck. Well, maybe not that hard, but ring it I shall. And, if for no other reason, to at least signify that this part of the journey is over. And let everyone I know, and love, hear it.
That pretty much wraps up my fears and where I stand emotionally, and even how I developed emotionally. It was probably the most difficult blog I’ve written yet because I’ve actually admitted things here that I have never admitted to anyone, except maybe my wife. Since this wasn’t like some of my past blogs, for that I do apologize, although I did warn you. But I felt like I had to put it out there. I don’t know why. And it really has made me feel better, even if no one ever reads it.
Next up is the trip to the treatment center for placement of the marker balls and SpaceOAR gel. I’m sure that will provide a bit more interesting reading and some laughs, and some more fears, along the way. I hope you’ll join me. Until then, God bless you all!