Raw Thoughts: Cancer
An image from our family album, June 1995.
Throughout my life, my mom often mentioned to me that I had a penchant for writing and that I ought to write more. Truthfully, I want to write more. Growing up, I scrawled thoughts into journals and diaries writing in extra thick spiral-bound notebooks, occasionally inserting fictional stories about whatever my vivid childhood imagination could conjure up. Getting thoughts on paper can be a therapeutic exercise - a meditation of sorts, a way to empty the overflowing brain by dumping its contents into another medium.
Today, I am exploring the concept of “Raw Thoughts.” We live in a extra-curated environment now, only displaying aspects of our lives that we feel safe putting out in the world, and rightfully so, as we are inviting and risking judgment, shame, and embarrassment by revealing information. I value courage and authenticity though, and part of my modus operandi is freeing my thoughts as a way of processing and releasing pent-up thoughts. Raw thoughts are a way for me to express genuinely, just pure and naked stream of consciousness. You’ll find no AI here.
My mom is suffering from advanced, terminal cancer.
Without having experienced it or witnessing it firsthand, cancer can seem like a distant, nebulous thing - something that only happens to other people. It lurks in the background of our lives, but if it emerges, it has no qualms about obliterating all sense of normalcy. Cancer rips apart not just the physical self, it erodes and tests our will to fight and live. It does not care who you are, what you believe, or what your aspirations are; it is hell bent on issuing an absolutely relentless assault on our physical being in just about the most excruciatingly painful and chaotic way possible. It robs its victims of their dignity, hopes, and any sense of control over their lives, replacing happy times with endless uncertainty, a slew of medications and treatments, doctor’s appointments, and logistical complications. What used to be second nature becomes a daunting task.
To watch my beautiful, intelligent mother who went from walking two miles a day to being robbed of just about every modicum of freedom and autonomy in a matter of weeks is like watching a horror movie unfold, only it’s real and I already know the ending. To watch her describe daily life as a “living hell” has left me in a permanent state of sorrow I can only wish was fiction. When her every breath is labored and painful, we hope that harsh treatments will bring respite before the disease takes away any chance of returning to some semblance of normalcy. The torment I feel watching such penetrating suffering is indescribable. Some days, I just want to scream into the void at the unfairness of it all, but there is no point in burying my head in the sand. Like the lyrics from the song “Free” - “We can’t fix it if we never face it.”
Nobody deserves to undergo such a brutal disease, but especially not my mother, who poured her life into caring for her family. Nothing I do to help her will adequately make up for all the sacrifices she made to raise us. It’s easy to take our health for granted when we have it. All I know is that she does not deserve any of this. I took for granted the time before cancer reared its ugly head.
Thanks for reading my first edition of Raw Thoughts. I welcome any advice that will help reduce my dear mother’s suffering.
