We had a house-warming party this weekend. I was tempted to call it a "nosy-neighbor" party, as it started out as a time for our wonderful Lane neighbors to see the house that enticed us away from them, and has given my husband the lowest stress level he's had in ten years. But then Mark invited his co-workers and I thought they might be offended being called nosy, so it just became an Open House.
One of Mark's friends stopped by several hours before the start of the party to visit. This gentleman is a cancer-lottery-winner - just hitting his 5-year NED. His odds of beating his cancer were slim. He went through hell with his treatments. As Mark used to tell me of his friend's time in the hospital, it reminded me of Lance Armstrong's odds and struggle. It was long and arduous. I'm always both happy and sad when someone hits the cancer NED jackpot. It's so difficult to do with many cancers, that you are thrilled when someone beats back the beast. But at the same time, it makes me terribly sad that Jim wasn't so lucky. Mark's friend still struggles with various ailments, and he was sharing with us that he had limited motion in his knee. You can see it pains him and, despite his best efforts, is a hindrance to what he wants to do. At the end of our conversation, he summed up "But it's better than cancer." Yes indeed.
I used to have aches and pains and think "I made it through childbirth. This is nothing." Now my measuring stick is cancer. Nothing that happens to me is as bad as Jim's cancer. No fear I have comes anywhere close to the fear of dying and leaving your spouse and small children alone. No pain I have running is anywhere close to the pain Jim struggled with during treatment and then palliative care. My yardstick these days is much longer than 36 inches.
I am truly thankful for what I have in life. And all the shit that inevitably comes our way day-to-day? Mark's friend said it best "It's better than cancer."
