Christmas Greetings

Dear Ones,

Well, it’s been five months, now.  Five months out, five months along, five months since receiving that terrible shock we’ve been referring to as ‘my diagnosis’ (even though those two little words can’t possibly describe the seismic shift that’s been reconstructing the core of my being since I got the news.)

Five months from July.  Let’s see.  That takes us to …. Christmas!  Yay Christmas!  Except, this Christmas is different.  This is my first Christmas as a Cancer Warrior.  What does Christmas mean when you’re a Cancer Warrior?  One of my friends, a woman in my parish, is also battling cancer.  She’s been letting everyone know the effect this ‘Season of Good Cheer’ has had on her.  “What’s the matter with me?” she’ll ask you, “It’s as if there never were a Christmas.”  From there she describes what’s she’s feeling.  Untamed jagged feelings.  Bitter, agonized, hopeless feelings.  I can listen to her, but I can’t share my emotions.  She’s too raw to be able to hear I’m about to share with you.

I still see the hope in Christmas.  I’m ready, in these days, to anticipate joy, and to celebrate.  The savior we’ve been promised is waiting to be born.  I’ll tell you, with all that’s happening in the world, and all that’s happening to me personally I’m really ready to greet him.  More than ever I understand that I need a savior.

When I was first diagnosed, I told the doctor, “Don’t give me a prognosis, just give me hope.”  They say you find what you’re looking for — and I’m looking for hope.  I’m looking to Christmas and (guess what?) I’m finding hope.  Hope for a better world.  Hope for time with the ones I love; hope for the chance to share gratitude with the one who mean most to me.

When I look at my own face, these days, it’s hard to see much Christmas joy  — so I find joy in the faces of others, particularly my nieces: “Mrs. Claus” and “Mrs. Claus”.  There’s joy in their homes, and there’s joy in the effort they take to make their homes warm and inviting.  Joy radiates from their hearts every time they select a gift.    You can taste the joy they produce while they’re making their Christmas cookies, their perfect Christmas cookies.

You know, there’s an upside to being a cancer warrior during Christmas.  I have an excuse, now, to remove myself from everyone else’s ‘consumer craziness’.  I can concentrate on the real meaning of this most solemn of Feast Days.  I’m praying with hope for a long, healthy and productive life so I can witness the joy in all of those who are close to me, all the ones I love.  That’s all I pray for, that’s all I need to know that I’m the most blessed person in the world.

There are miracles in Christmas, and miracles have come my way in the Christmas of 2012.

First miracle.  I would never, ever, ever have believed I’d find a diet where I never had to exercise, could eat whatever I wanted to, whenever I wanted and be able to lose fifty-seven pounds in twenty two weeks.  I couldn’t believe it, but it’s exactly what has happened.  Yeah, — I can eat whatever I like, if I can motivate myself to eat anything; I can eat all day, too, if I want to.  The trick is keeping it down

Second miracle.  I’m married to a super-hero.  This man, the man I’ve known and loved for twenty five years has always been the kind of guy who — how shall I put it? — requires a little ‘looking after’, some extra support to do certain things, extra motivation to do anything, if fact.  People said I spoil Paul, and I always have.  I’ve been the one, in our marriage, who takes over and takes charge.  I’ve had to be.  When I first got sick I was terrified by the thought of Paul trying to get by without me.  I wasn’t the only one worried.  When Liqa’s godmother asked my daughter what she needed most, caring for a sick mother, Liqa said, “Help me with dad!”

Think I’m exaggerating?  Paul is a guy who asked me for the entirety of our marriage where we keep the silverware.  Lately, though, he’s someone I can hardly recognize.  He takes care of the house, manages the finances, supplies 24/7 emotional support, is father (and sometimes mother) to Angelique.  All the while he continues to be a compassionate mental health practitioner, a loving son, brother and uncle.  When this amazing man entered my life twenty-five years ago, I knew he was a blessing.  I just never could have guessed what a blessing he’d turn out to be.

So, everyone, “Merry Christmas” — and if you don’t celebrate Christmas, celebrate the fact that I’m still here — and happy to be here!  May God bless you, and everyone you love with a peaceful season and a joyous New Year.

Love,

Pam