I know what you’re thinking. What the heck, Kristin? Hear me out.

You know when you go buy a new car? You’ve vetted it out, you hardly see it on the road, you really like it and you’re so excited to get it. But then you buy the car and suddenly everyone has the same car. With the same trim package and the same color. The wheels may be different and maybe they have some stickers on the back of their car you don’t, but for the most part, they’re the same. Tracking with me now?

Cancer is the same.

My son actually told me in bed one night, “Mom, why does everyone we know have cancer now?”

Well, I think that answer is three fold: 1) I think we’re poisoned by everything now. 2) I think cancer has more visibility now. 3) I think it’s got that “new car smell.” Once you have it, suddenly everyone seems to have it.

Cancer is freaking…well, I was going to say something like tragic, but it is a real shit deal, pardon my language. Honestly, it sucks. No matter if you’ve got the “good kind” or the “really invasive kind.” Cancer is deadly. There’s no preparing you to lose a family member from cancer whether you’ve had time to prepare or not. Having a child diagnosed with a tumor or cancer sucks major kinds of stupid and there’s zero preparation you go through as a parent to be ready to bury your child or watch them die a slow death, painful or not. Likewise, receiving the news that you’re infected is a gut-punch you can’t prepare yourself for. Cancer destroys you. Sometimes it shows on the outside and people will feel bad for you. Sometimes, cancer doesn’t show at all and people ask (sorry, this is going to be rude) really stupid questions like “How are you really doing?”

I’ve been talking to an oncology psychologist and she’s really challenged me to answer this differently – and maybe more honestly. My answer to most people is “Fine.” “Great!” “I feel good.” Because honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. I want life to be normal. I don’t want to be thought of as a cancer patient and I don’t want my kids or husband to think of me as having cancer. Instead of these answers, she’s encouraged me to give the new response of “Given the circumstances, I’m okay.” Or, “It’s been a hard transition, but I appreciate these moments to be normal.” (Note: If you hear me say this, just know that I’m avoiding the question entirely and honestly, it’s easier to move on and fine isn’t probably the truth and anything other than that is a long emotional conversation I don’t want to get into.)

The last few weeks have sucked. I’ve compartmentalized this little cancer thing I have into a nice little box that I don’t have to touch. I ignore it because I can’t “feel it.” My hair is covering up the scars unless you feel my head and while you may know I’m tired, I’m really good at hiding it. Without going down the “friend of a friend of a friend” path, I “know” a young boy who’s going through a pretty serious brain tumor. I’ve found some similarities in our experience, but a lot of what this family is going through is completely new and unknown to me. I’ve honestly had moments of anger listening to the whole situation as I’ve “third-hand” heard a family struggle and wondered what went wrong where. But, I know God has a plan.

Then, my cousin entered the picture. Backing up to my family history some, my dad and his 3 brothers died in their 40’s. The rest of the “family boys” are all now in their 40’s and one of the boys is on hospice now that happened stupid suddenly and I find myself so crushed and angry that cancer is destroying him. He’s got 3 young babies and one on the way, a wife who is watching over him as he takes those last breaths and a mama who is having to realize she’s about to bury her first son. It’s freaking unfair. Part of me also struggles to even think about attending a funeral because I have this horrible thought in the back of my head that they will be upset I’m there because “I look fine and I have cancer, but their husband/son/dad was taken.” THAT is what cancer and the devil does to your mind. It screws with the very things you know are untrue, but it eats at your heart and soul until it breaks. My heart breaks for my cousin and his pain. But my heart breaks more for what I know he’s had to think about: the family he’s leaving behind and how his children are very young. As a parent, we feel like we’ve failed and we’re scared when we think about leaving them behind. But God protects the widows and orphans, and I know that.

When I was going through my preparation to surgery, I had weeks to think about dying on that table and chance to talk to my kids about faith. I talked to my husband about remarrying. I talked to my son and daughter about sex, periods, hygiene things I hadn’t covered, dating, marriage…all of it. I tried to cram it into a short period of time. I wrote letters to my kids and my husband that thankfully they never had to read.

I’ll say it again. It’s not fair.

I honestly hate this diagnosis. It impacts everything. I even got a lower rating in my review last year which I really struggled with because it was somehow proof that I was dropping balls and losing who I was through all of this. While that may not be true and my job expectations have increased, it doesn’t stop that from bleeding into my mind and destroying the very fabric of who I am.

It impacts my relationship with my kids. My son once told a friend “cancer has changed my mom,” My daughter had a friend tell her at school once, “At least my mom doesn’t have cancer.” My husband has heard, “It seems like Kristin hasn’t missed a beat and just picked right back up.” But let’s address these:

Response 1: Yes, cancer has changed me. I don’t know why. I’ve not had chemo or radiation. Yes, I’m on medication but it should not impact my attitude. My fatigue does. My fatigue makes me unable to think straight or remember things. Am I working on this? Yes. I’m taking a new medication that helps, too.

Response 2: Whatever. I was actually surprised this bothered my daughter. First, your kid isn’t nice. That’s a mean thing to say. But most importantly, what did you expect to gain from that? I’m not a leper. I have cancer. It doesn’t impact you. Mind your business first of all. Second of all, ask my daughter what her mom having cancer has taught her from a faith basis. I guarantee you she can name 40 ways God has shown up in our lives. So, take your mean words and shush. And parents, teach your kids to be nicer. Cause, for real.

Response 3: Ugh. This is me trying to pretend “everything is fine.” No, it’s not. Yes, it sucks. But the alternative is falling apart and I’m not quite sure how my husband would handle that. He doesn’t do well with crying anyway. 🙂

Throughout this diagnosis, I’ve seen some pretty cool things God has been doing. I know that God put me on this path for a reason. I trust Him. I know that He is using this illness of mine to reach others. I know that my story is a journey map from beginning until current day of all the good He has done in my life. From something as simple as a car accident that happened to reveal I had a tumor to standing up the best medical team to approving a medication just DAYS before I met with my oncologist that was the first of its kind to prevent it from spreading. God has lined every step.

Regardless of all of that though and no matter how much I trust God, I stumble with understanding God’s plan and the more I see cancer wreck lives, I prayerfully go back to God and ask why. I don’t get angry over it, but I do wonder why that family, why that person, why that cancer? Why was that person healed – or not healed? What was different about their journey versus mine? How many days do I have left? Am I making them count? Will those around me know that I loved them or will they remember the days I lost my temper instead? Will people remember me for the things I tried to accomplish or will they remember the days that I pulled my hair out instead?

Cancer sucks, friends. No question about it. There’s simply no preparing you for it and no preparing you to watch a loved one die from it – even if you have it yourself and watch a family member die. (That sometimes make it harder with our guilt.)

People are in different parts of their life. Don’t be mad if they respond with that they are fine or that they offer a fake smile. Sometimes it’s all we can do to keep it together long enough to get back into a safe spot and fall apart and ask God to put us back together again.