Thursday, June 6 – This is dedicated to the ones I love

I was going to make a post about how I am still practicing Mindfulness – being in the moment.  Alternatively, how I accepted a diet challenge through a fitness program to try something new.  Instead, I feel the need to dedicate my post today to Kelly.  Not my soon to be daughter-in-law Kelly, but Kelly from my Breast Cancer Support Group.

Kelly came to our group already undergoing treatment for her Triple Negative Breast Cancer through her primary medical provider. She was terrified like the rest of us, dealing with our own monsters that cancer brings with it.  I was introduced to a book that claims cancer is a punk.  The author Brianne Joseph says a punk is someone who sneaks up on you and attacks you when you least expect it. I am also of the thought that punks always bring friends to back them up.  These are the monsters and demons we face, while that damn punk tries to kill us.  In our support group, we face our demons and monsters together, uplifting each other, providing a shoulder, a hug, a hand or words as needed, to each other to get through our nightmares come to life.

Kelly shared with us her fighter, her belief that she is stronger than this “punk azz” cancer.   Through all she has faced in her battle to date, she has continued to turn to her inner prize fighter, to consistently believe she will be victorious, even when she succumbs to that doubt monster that plagues all of us.  She continues to end with the positive after pouring out all the doubts, fears and negatives that are a constant ticker tape feed in the back of all our thoughts.

Kelly has an effervescent spirit; she brings light to a room and spreads joy and warmth to all of us.  She is funny, with a quick wit and is willing to be the first one to laugh at herself.  My favorite kind of person.

Kelly has had a much more difficult road to travel with her triple negative breast cancer than I traveled.  Watching her face setback after setback and still look towards a perfect light at the end of a tunnel inspires me and makes me admire her even more.  At one point she was even comforting me saying her story is not my story and that I need not worry that any of her setbacks would ever happen to me.

Kelly has had yet more setbacks and has been hospitalized for weeks.  She is so independent that she has refused help or visits from any of us.  We are terrified for her.  We know that there will be those that lose their battle with cancer, but we are not ready to go there with her yet.  She is still fighting and we want to be at her side fighting with her.  We want to hold her hand and transfer our love and strength to her.  She told us that she did not want us to deal with freeways, traffic and parking.  Please, my bright and loving friend, these are the least of our worries here.  We could care less about the slight inconvenience we might face in order to be by your side.

Kelly continues to look at the positives, like how her nurses are treating her like a queen.  They provided her a “spa day”, a foot massage, hair wash, soothing sound machine, and even a champagne flute to sip her “green drink”. 

In the meantime, we sit in our own little worlds trying hard to hold onto her indefatigable spirit and feeling helpless.  We have all shed our tears of fear for our dear friend.  We are together, in this space and time, for a reason, and feeling left out is hard for all of us.

Therefore, I am pouring out my heart here, my love of this woman, all of her.  The fears, the anger, the strength, the wit, and her joys.  She has shown me how to move forward when those damn monsters feel like they are winning.  She has shown me how deep love can go.  She has shown me that sharing our fears with each other makes us stronger.  She has shown me the pure face of joy.  She has shown me righteous anger, and to funnel that anger into action.  She has shown me that we do not have to be perfect.  She has shown me how our ties bind one another and how important those ties we have are to our whole.

Kelly is part of whole, and we feel the loss without her amongst us physically.  We feel helpless and afraid because her strength in doing “this” on her own keeps us away from her.  Our hearts break that she is facing this without us by her side.  We need to be with her, to just hold her hand, or sit with her in silence, breathing the same air, or just talking nonsense.  We just need to be there.

Kelly, my beautiful, strong, vibrant, joyous friend, know that we would climb mountains, slay dragons, swim oceans, and cross deserts for you.  Our hearts, thoughts and prayers are with you always.

I thank Deda for allowing me to cry while I poured out my hurt, hopes and fears while she hiked a hill in Portland, OR to see the beautiful rose garden at the top.  As we both cried, as we have been through this before with her dad and my stepfather who both succumbed to their battles with cancer, she looked around at all those beautiful roses blooming in every color you could think of and all she could see was each flower representing a woman who lost her battle.  Even though she was not with me physically, my Deda is always there for me holding me in spirit when she cannot be there in person.

I thank Linda who agreed to meet me at Madrona Marsh so we could take in some of the beauty of nature to remind us that life is full, even when we feel we drained.

I thank my support group for knowing how we all feel, even if all our roads are different.  You provide me space to celebrate the good, to face my fears with no judgement, and to give of myself to others.

Life is accepting what is and what will be