Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Hello?
Mr. Shock: "Can I speak to Ms. Undeserving?"
Ms. Undeserving: "This is she"
Mr. Shock: "We have determined the spots on your lung and liver to be sarcoma
(aka C a n c e r)
At a moment, her world stops the outside noise of the active city life deafens and shock sets in.
IT CANT BE
NOT AGAIN
Just 12 years ago, this same woman received her last round of chemo and submerged out of a dreary white hospital a Survivor. Free to open her eyes to a bright new world, free to open her ears to the active city sounds and the fresh aroma of the local cuisines bellowing from the near by cook shacks. The sun on her skin coupled with the joy in her heart revitalized the life in her veins.
IT WAS OVER
She lived day to day always aware of the battle she once fought. Her eyes were for the first time open to the true joys of life and the realization that time no longer seemed to matter. Joy, pride, strength, appreciation, determination, a life worth living, these were her newborn characteristics. Therefore, as many of us in the fellowship of cancer survivors do we push it back, deep down into the pits of our souls never to be reminded of the day we were bombarded by three powerful words that would forever change our life.
"You have cancer"
I have tried through various writings and attempts at copy write infringements to develop an explanation of how it truly feels to hear those words. Through my countless search and reflections of my own bout with the monster, I have been unable to find a statement worth illustrating. Sure I can say it feels like a punch to the stomach or a lose of a loved one or that it just plain sucks, but that would not begin to envelop the true physiological embodiment of hearing those words. To have been told you have a disease which steals millions upon millions of lives without any discrimination of age, gender, race, or genealogy for that matter is down right, alone in a dark room after watching Friday the 13th, terrifying. In my own search for portraying the true feeling of first hearing those words process through your brain at the rate of an old school computer that you played Oregon Trail on in grade school, I have decided to reach down in my soul to describe a fraction of how it truly feels.
If you could for a moment imagine a gun, being held to your temple by a mass murderer and in three seconds he will 100% pull the trigger and end your life. Now image instead of a surefire death from a mass murder, the gun was now in the hands of cancer. Cancer ties a rope to a door of a frequented bathroom while the other end is delicately wrapped around the trigger of a gun pointed directly at you. The kicker to cancer's plot is that cancer will leave a pair of scissors lying just out of reach. It does this to make you struggle, work, gasp, and contemplate your survival. While you sit there alone in the bathroom, contemplating ways of reaching the one thing that can save your life you break down. Your head lowers, the world stops, and you ask yourself why. Why me out of all the terrible people in this world. Why me, when I have so much I want to see and do and offer the world I love and treasure. For a moment you simply say fuck it, let the door open and end my constant worries that dig into the pits of my heart, stomach, and soul. Bring it, take me now! Then it happens, those three seconds turn into four and the four into five and your head begins to lift. You find the primordial survival fueled by the anger of things unfair and in a moment, you reach! You struggle hard across the bathroom floor finding anything you can to drag the scissors closer. You remind yourself of your past fights and the passions you are destined to pursue. You're reminded of the ones who love you and the soldiers that are cheering you through. As your fingers wrap around the stainless steal blades you hold them proud knowing you gave it your all. With every emotion and time spent wondering the tears from your eyes clear to revile the rope snug between the two blades of steal and you clinch down! As the sound of the fibers tear, one by one you begin to reflect on your time alone on that cold bathroom floor. You remember how you felt when cancer set that vary trap in the highlight of your fragile life. You recall the feel of a cool breeze on an autumn day, the taste of your favorite spirit coupled with a bite of your favorite food, you think back to the seconds before when giving up seemed inevitable, you remember how life use to be, who you use to be and most importantly, you remember your passion. The last fiber of the rope snaps as the gun slams to the floor and a joyful river of tears flood down your chin. Although drained from emotion and weak from the fight you stand fierce from your victory.
You Stand a Survivor
Here is to you my dear friend in battle. I have made a connection with you that will last an eternity and I look up to the life you have lived and will continue to live. You are my closest soldier in an unfair battle between an enemies we shall fight once more. I cannot say that I understand what it means to have been told after so many years that the monster you worked so hard to beat has come back for more. However, I can and will always say that we must fight. Remember the past, remember sitting in that bathroom and remember how you were able to cut the rope. I love you with a bond that we will always share and will add to your strength every step of the way.
Never forget that you are and will continue to be a
SURVIVOR
With much Love and Fight,
Preston Presnell
Founder, LifeLinkage.Com
"Welcome To a New Perspective"